


And Sometimes Darkness

by undun



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate universe after OotP, Betrayal, Developing Relationship, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, PTS symptoms, Physical Disability, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Serious Injuries, Violence, compliant up to Order of the Phoenix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3995575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undun/pseuds/undun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the smoke of the battle cleared, one man was not left standing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flesh and Torment

**Author's Note:**

> A story that didn’t begin its life as an AU, but is now certainly in that category.  
> Dedicated to the lovely person who helped to bash this story into shape, Musigneous.
> 
> Trigger warnings for many, many things - PLEASE READ ALL THE TAGS.

The man didn’t look right, sitting there, placid and unmoving. Uncaring.

Remus shifted unconsciously in his seat. He stared at the figure closely, his eyes lingering where the robes covered the man’s lower body. Remus studied the man’s profile but could gain no further insight into his state of mind; it was as if a Severus Snape-shaped manikin had been placed before the Wizengamot.

_With one or two inaccuracies._

Remus grimaced at his own black humour. Again, drawn like magnets, his eyes dropped to stare at the space where Snape’s legs used to be.

Remus was separated by some distance from the rest of the crowd, as befitted someone seen as an untrustworthy werewolf rather than an acknowledged hero of the war against He Who Must Not Be Named. He accepted the judgement, not that he had much choice really; since the war he’d lost the urge to fight for anything, even his own rights.

Severus Snape’s state shouldn’t affect Remus so much. He should be used to physical disfigurement by now – quite apart from his own monthly interpretation of it, there were more than enough disabled survivors of Voldemort’s attempt at world domination to make him familiar with such a condition. Indeed it bothered him not one bit to be faced with the grim evidence of the war they had eventually won. He had sympathy for those so injured, but more than that he felt proud of their sacrifices.

But not Snape’s. Snape had not suffered his disfigurement in his struggle against Voldemort; he had been hexed by Aurors some hours after Voldemort’s fall. In the aftermath of the hexing the band of aurors had stood firmly united in the belief that Snape had been about to attack them. True, he’d had his wand in his hand – also true was that he had been holding it pointed towards the ground. The Aurors had been jumpy, quite understandably in the wake of the Final Battle, and inclined to hex first and ask questions later. In simple mathematics it meant that Snape had been felled by a total of fourteen (a fifteenth shot off the hex, but had missed her target) sets of a standard Magical Law Enforcement textbook hex for pre-emptive strike against a dangerous offender. It had quite literally taken the legs out from under him.

The hearing lumbered on, but Remus already knew what the outcome would be: Snape would be pardoned. After the evidence gathered from captured Death Eaters, Snape was once more confirmed as an undercover agent who had worked against Voldemort. Snape had been beyond all suspicion, deeply trusted by his former comrades until the very last moments of the conflict. Now imprisoned, they held him in the very deepest of contempt. Unfortunately, so did those who had fought against Voldemort. Tonks had certainly not approved of Snape’s imminent pardon, declining to accompany Remus to today’s proceeding. As much as it bothered him, Remus couldn’t really hold it against her; after all, he was probably the only one from the Order who had deigned to show up today.

His attention came back to the proceedings as he heard the vote taken to pardon Severus Snape; as he’d expected, the vote was carried by a clear majority of the Wizengamot. He might have been confident of the result, but Remus still let out a sigh of relief. He climbed to his feet to make his way out as the Wizengamot members left the chamber.

He was already waiting in the dim corridor when Snape was finally brought out. Remus frowned at the cumbersome wheeled chair that creaked along the flagstones. Surely the Ministry could have arranged something better than that? But then Snape was hardly a valued member of society, certainly not any more than Remus was. He realised with some shock, as the Wizengamot attendant stepped back from Snape’s chair with visible relief, that they simply meant to abandon him there.

“Severus?”

He stepped forward into the flickering light of the torch burning on the wall above Snape’s head. There was no discernable response from the seated man, and he tried again as he drew closer.

“Severus, it’s me, Remus Lupin.”

“Lupin,” the man acknowledged. Snape’s voice was as expressionless as his face.

“Do you have someone meeting you? Do you have anywhere to stay?” Remus asked.

Snape’s own house was out of the question; even if the Aurors had left the place intact it would be the very first place any Voldemort sympathisers would turn up looking for revenge. Remus’ stomach lurched as he made a very sudden, and therefore very ill considered, decision. He walked behind the chair and grasped the wooden handles.

“You’re coming home with me until you find your f…”

It was hardly worth aborting the sentence, the word hung so heavy at the end of it. He felt his face flame in mortification as he pushed the ancient contraption along the corridor to the lift. After a moment he realised that what he’d assumed was the creaking of the chair’s wheels was in fact a wheezing chuckle coming from its occupant.

 

~~~^~~~

They made their way up through the levels until they finally emerged into the Atrium. Remus paused in front of the banks of floo exits to consider the options. How should he do this? Floo wasn’t feasible. Broom? No, definitely not. That left Apparation, but he would have to lift Snape to cover him with his spell. And the chair would have to stay – no great loss there; given the brief time he’d been acquainted with it, Remus loathed the device out of all proportion. Before he thought better of it, he leant down and grabbed Snape about the waist, hefting him into his arms and whirling to Apparate home.

He staggered to a standstill outside his door. Snape was an awkward but strangely light burden in his arms, the loss of his legs having subtracted a large amount of bodyweight, he realised with a pang. He remembered those long limbs with surprising affection; the way Snape would move them, his fluid grace – in his adult life a far cry from those gawky, knobby-kneed school years.

“Put me down. Please,” Snape croaked in his ear. Remus felt the body against him stiffen then struggle. It was monumentally undignified for the man, and given a choice he would never have treated him this way.

“Yes, of course, Severus. Just a moment,” he assured him hastily. He struggled to get his wand out from his pocket to unlock his door, Snape halting all movement to free himself, which was just as well since the squirming had him slightly off balance in more ways than one. It was awful to see such a powerful wizard in such a position of dependency. He vowed to do something about it, and never mind that he had more than enough to cope with just clinging to his own dignity.

He kicked the front door closed behind him and shuffled into the lounge, depositing his cargo carefully on the tattered sofa. He stepped back, catching his breath and studying the closed eyes and pallid face of his companion.

“Severus, are you in pain?” he asked, kneeling down to peer more closely at the man. There was a light sheen of perspiration over the high forehead, but Snape made no response. Realising that Snape would never admit to weakness even in this extreme state, he huffed with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

“I’ll just fetch you a cool drink. Shan’t be long,” he murmured and left the man to compose himself for a while.

His fridge would need replenishing. Remus peered into it despondently, not really expecting much but then finding one lone butterbeer bottle at the back of the bottom shelf, that home of all surprise finds, not all of them welcome. He filled a glass for Snape then half-filled another glass for himself with the rest of the beer bottle. 

When he returned to the small sitting room, the man was once again expressionless and remote, black eyes focused inward. Remus sat beside him on the sofa, holding the glass out wordlessly, determined that Snape’s silence was not going to prompt him to babble inanely. Five seconds, ten seconds passed, and just as his arm began to ache Snape reached out and took the glass.

“Thank you.”

If anyone else had said it Remus would have replied with, ‘You’re welcome’, or ‘Not at all’. Hearing Snape say it stunned him just as much as hearing the man say ‘Please’ a few minutes earlier had, and he said nothing in response.

Pondering this newly conditioned response in the wizard he’d always known to utter both phrases in none but the most sarcastic of tones Remus gulped down his butter beer too quickly and coughed to clear his airway. Snape didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, it’s not much,” he began, looking about at his surroundings, “but it’s home.”

Aside from the sofa they were sitting on there was a large armchair and a footstool, and over the fireplace a mantelpiece held a chipped vase of wilting pansies. There was an untidy pile of books stacked beside the armchair, but with much of his reading material involving the Dark Arts he’d kept the bookshelves out of sight in the bedroom. Thinking of the bedroom led to him wonder where the hell Snape would sleep. He supposed he would have to offer him his bed – his lovely bed where he had frequently had his way with Tonks until the end of the war. He was strangely unrepentant of their ill-considered relationship and, just as strangely, unregretful of its demise since peace broke out. As the current catch phrase went, it was a ‘war-time thing’, and he considered himself very lucky to still be on friendly terms with the young metamorphmagus.

He wondered if his indecently large and comfortable bed – his one luxury item – could be subdivided effectively. Then he wondered what it would be like sharing a bedroom with someone like Snape. After that he wondered why he hadn’t wondered about all this before he’d practically kidnapped Snape from the Ministry thirty minutes ago. He sighed and climbed to his feet.

“I’m going to sort out the bedroom, Severus. Call if you need anything.”

Without waiting for a response he was sure wouldn’t come, he walked out of the room, digging in his pocket for his wand once more as he headed for the bedroom to perform an act of cruelty upon his unsuspecting mattress.


	2. Form and Function

Remus pondered idly what he would say to Tonks when he next talked to her. Though she’d been reasonably accepting of his need to attend Snape’s hearing, she’d no doubt be altogether less reasonable about his giving house space to the man. It was likely to be a common reaction among his acquaintances and he would have to find a way to deal with it.

Tonks still felt it her duty to make sure he ate regularly and contributed a takeaway curry every Friday to that purpose. He could expect her to be on the doorstep bearing a vicious vindaloo no later than four days from now. She would certainly floo him first if she intended to visit sooner; an ill-timed appearance when Remus had been entertaining a casual acquaintance had been a lesson for both of them on the importance of establishing boundaries now that they were no longer intimate.

He’d been transfiguring the bed, or beds as they now were, while trying to decide how to handle Tonks. While the beds were coming along nicely, and even in their divided state still retained some of the original’s sinful opulence, ideas were not forthcoming for arguing Snape’s case to Tonks, or anyone else who might choose to object to his finding temporary sanctuary with Remus.

He sighed, and cursed the need he felt to justify his actions to all and sundry. Surely he could make his own decisions and have them respected like anybody else? Yes, but he would run the risk of alienating the people he cared about – something he was always at pains to avoid. He inevitably called himself a coward afterwards, but he was never able to overcome the urge to please others at the expense of his own needs.

This time was different, however; Snape’s fate was quite literally in his hands. He flexed those hands, lifting them to his face as he remembered the weight and solid feel of the man when he’d lifted him to Apparate. He’d felt the prominent ridges of his ribs through the layers of threadbare wool. Snape must have been on a restricted diet for some time. Perhaps he’d been medicated. He had to contact someone at St Mungo’s and find out how to help him rehabilitate.

He ran his gaze once more over the bedroom. He’d had to move two bookshelves to make room for the divided bed, but the result was spacious enough for two grown men to share. He would make adjustments to the wardrobe later if he needed to, but at the moment Snape had nothing with him but the clothes he was wearing. With that in mind, Remus pulled out an old pair of pyjamas and left them on top of the bed nearest the door.

He left the room thinking over another problem – that of Snape’s mobility. Remus had hated the wheeled chair and he had to find another way for Severus to move about. Why hadn’t St Mungo’s given him some prosthetic legs? It was certainly a puzzle.

He stood in the doorway of the sitting room, halted in his tracks by the sight of Snape slumped and sleeping, or so he hoped, cradling his empty beer glass loosely in his hands. The poor sod was done in, obviously. The hearing would have been an emotional strain, not to mention the effort required in his newly disabled state just to sit through the farce – and with no guarantee that he’d be freed at the end of it. And he’d had no reason to expect someone there to help him afterwards.

Suddenly, helping Snape made the best kind of sense to Remus. He smiled to himself and moved to raise the sleeping wizard gently into his arms.

Snape roused briefly to object: “I hate this,” he slurred in a fragrant wash of butter beer breath.

“I know,” Remus responded with a sigh, navigating the hallway carefully and bending to lower the man onto his bed. He conjured a candle and lit it with his wand, leaving it to hover beside the bed. He’d need another small table in here. “Sleep, Severus.”

Back in the sitting room he found a piece of parchment and began to make a list of what he would need to do tomorrow, beginning with a visit to St Mungo’s to find the healer that had treated Snape’s injuries. After that he needed to do some grocery shopping, and maybe he could fit in a quick visit to pick up some of Snape’s belongings from his house. He realised that he could not count on anyone to help him and that meant leaving Snape unattended. Something that had niggled in his brain briefly now fairly shouted at him; Snape had no wand. He dropped his head into his hands. Without a wand, left alone in the house, Severus would be helpless as a baby!

He scratched around for another scrap of parchment, this time to write up spells to cast before he left in the morning, the most important being something to levitate one of the dining chairs when signalled. It wouldn’t be ideal, but at least it would be better than that wheeled contraption. “Bloody rubbish,” he muttered darkly to himself, understanding his hatred for the device no better than before but fully able to express it nonetheless.

He rubbed his forehead wearily and rose to fix some dinner, though his appetite was somewhat diminished by dwelling so much on Snape’s condition. He sighed and reached for the bread packet; toast would tide him over until morning, and then he would get some answers and hopefully solve some problems too.

 

~~~^~~~

 

Sometime in the dark hours before dawn there was a rustling in the bed next to his and Remus swung himself upright, blinking and alarmed before he remembered that he had a guest in his room.

“Severus?” he rasped out in the general direction of the other bed. He’d snuffed the candle out when going to bed and could barely see the Snape’s dark form.

“Ah, I need to…”

“Toilet. Yes, no problem. Hold on.”

He was tempted to slap himself across the head for not thinking of this before he went to sleep. The spelled chair couldn’t wait until daylight.

He staggered through the darkened flat using his wand for light. Locating a kitchen chair he fought to clear his head enough to cast the complicated charm needed to activate the chair for Snape in his wandless state. When he was satisfied that he had the result he wanted he levitated the chair into the bedroom. He really needed to apply to the Ministry for the return of Snape’s wand. He expected that they would try and deny him access to it, but they had no legal right to do so in light of the man’s full pardon.

Belatedly he re-lit the candle hovering near Snape’s bed.

“Here you are, a chair charmed just for you, Severus. Sorry I couldn’t arrange a flying carpet instead – budget considerations, you know,” he quipped weakly.

He watched as Snape eyed first him, and then the rather ordinary looking wooden chair he had placed beside the bed.

“It will levitate for you, just steer it with your weight. Let me help you,” he urged, bending to get his arm around the man.

“I think I… can manage… myself,” Snape ground out, levering himself to the edge of the bed.

He stepped back instantly, aware that Snape needed to assert some independence and reassured to see some of the famed temper in evidence at last.

“Thank you.” The man glanced up at him as he struggled to perch on the chair.

Then again, Snape’s observance of social niceties was really starting to worry him. He watched nervously as Snape got the chair moving, bumping gently against the wall as he guided it along the hallway.

“First door on the left,” he called after the floating wizard. He paced the room slowly, ears pricked for the sound of Snape falling. Instead his ears picked up the sound of a rather protracted piss. He brought his hand up to smother a smile – the poor bloke must have been busting. Predictably, listening to all that running water made his own bladder ache in sympathy and he paced faster waiting for Snape to emerge from the bathroom.

The flush sounded and Snape reappeared in the doorway of the bedroom, frowning with concentration as he manhandled the chair to his bed. He looked at Remus as he lifted himself back onto the bed.

“You needn’t stay up waiting for me,” he commented, just a hint of waspishness in his voice.

“Oh, no – I’m off for a go myself,” he said, and slipped out of the room. He stopped and turned back to the doorway. “Um, if you would be more comfortable, I left you some pyjamas to wear. You’d already fallen asleep before I could offer them to you earlier.”

He headed into the bathroom, taking his time and even brushing his teeth again to give Snape some privacy to change. When he finally returned to the bedroom Snape was once again asleep, or doing a very good imitation of it. He smiled and picked up the puddle of clothes on the floor, shaking them out and leaving them draped over the chair. He caught himself before he followed the impulse to stroke the pale cheek resting on the pillow.

He blew out the candle.

Heart thudding for no reason that came to mind, he fell back onto his bed and lay gazing at the darkness above for a very long time.


	3. Dark Works

He was being stonewalled. St Mungo’s staff insisted that they had no record of Severus Snape having been admitted, and therefore no record of his treatment for double magical amputation. He strode along the corridor; he had one contact here and he intended to use it.

“Cho!”

“Profess– er, Mr. Lupin?”

He jogged up to the dark haired young woman. “Just call me Remus, please,” he huffed out, smiling down at her.

“Of course. Remus it is. You look worried; what’s wrong?” she asked him.

“Frustrated at every turn is what I am, Cho. I wondered if you would have any information about Severus Snape’s treatment here? I’m getting nowhere with the administration staff – they insist he was never admitted,” he told her in a hushed voice, steering her away from the main corridor to some vacant seats. She sat slowly, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Well, no he wasn’t admitted. They had a healer sent to his cell to examine him, but that’s all I know of it,” she explained.

She might as well have slapped him.

“Severus was never admitted for proper treatment,” he thought aloud. That meant he’d been held in a cell at the mercy of Magical Law Enforcement guards right after losing both his legs.

“That’s right. Are you okay, Remus? You look pale.”

Remus focused on her face, noticing her frown of concern. It was true he did feel breathless, but he was afraid that it would turn to an overwhelming rage if he loosened his grip on himself even a little.

“I’m fine. Listen, thank you for filling me in,” he replied, then added, with a foreboding sense that qualified help would be hard to procure, “You’ve finished your finals now, haven’t you?”

She smiled at him. “That’s right. I’m not allowed to practice yet, mind – the results aren’t in, but the instructors are all assuring me I’ve done fairly well.”

Remus returned her smile, though it was stiff and made him feel like a waxwork dummy. “Good for you!” He patted her hand, ready to do some gentle manipulation. “I wonder whether I might ask another favour, Cho?”

“Yes, of course, Remus,” she replied.

Feeling equal parts wretched and relieved, he explained, “I think Severus might need to see a qualified healer. He was pardoned yesterday, as you probably know, and he is staying with me due to his condition.”

“He’s staying with… you, and you want me to… treat him?”

“Strictly off the record I assure you, and I’d be happy to reimburse you for your trouble,” he added, knowing full well that impoverished medimagic students were likely to stretch the rules in order to pay their rent. The expression on her face could have been fear, disgust or both. Remus waited, chewing the inside of his lip.

“He was a hex amputation – on both legs?”

A thoughtful frown followed on her face as Remus nodded.

“He should have been admitted first thing. It’s nothing short of criminal to have kept him locked up like that – what was he going to do, run away?”

He let out a quiet breath. “You’ll come see him then?”

“Yes, I will,” she replied, blinking in apparent surprise at her own temerity. She smiled and added, “You’ll not let him eat me, then?”

He patted her hand again. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s a vegetarian.”

 

~~~^~~~

 

Remus next made his way to the Ministry of Magic while wondering what he was going to use to pay Cho for her medical services – perhaps she might like some attractively threadbare socks? He didn’t have time to dwell overmuch on the issue, however; spotting his former lover in foyer of the Ministry, her bright hair lit like a beacon, he moved to the next item on his to-do list.

“Tonks!” he greeted her, striding to her side quickly.

“Remus! Hello, love!” she exclaimed happily, rising onto her toes to kiss him on the cheek. It still made him blush after all this time.

“Steady on,” he laughed self-consciously. She made a rude sound and jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Wotcha doing skulking around here then?”

“I’m not skulking!” he protested, “I’m trying get Snape’s wand back for him. Who do I see?”

“Ah.”

“What does ‘ah’ mean, precisely?” he queried, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Um, it would mean that you can’t get something back when it is an item that no longer exists, my dear Remus, friend to all foul greasy gits.”

His mouth hung open in shock. The day just kept getting better and better.

“Good thing there’s no flies in here,” she commented.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered.

“Look, I don’t see why it’s such a surprise – he’s a Dark wizard, Remus. And what’s it to you anyway? Why are you fetching and carrying for him?”

He straightened with a frown. “He was pardoned! And I’m not sure you heard, _dear_ , but he has no fucking legs!” _Hold it, hang onto it – don’t dare let it go_. The fury wanted out; he felt like an unwelcome rider atop a Hungarian Horntail.

“Yes, well, Moody never let that–”

He interrupted her, hissing through clenched teeth. “Alastor was probably tripping over healers ready to treat him. Severus saw one. In his cell. It was a matter of form only – he hasn’t been properly treated in the two months since it happened.”

“Still, a man like that, you can’t expect–”

“What? Justice? So who decides who is treated lawfully, Tonks – you?” He couldn’t stomach it anymore; he had to get away before he lost control completely.

That was two thwarted errands so far. He hoped the groceries wouldn’t give him any lip.

 

~~~^~~~

 

“Severus, it’s just me,” Remus called as he let himself in the front door, narrowly avoiding premature scrambling of the eggs he’d just bought. Remus jiggled the carton carefully back into the overburdened grocery bag and kicked the door closed rather too forcefully. He heard an echoing thud from the sitting room and, placing the shopping bags down as quickly as he could without losing the eggs, he moved swiftly to the source of the sound.

“Severus?” he called anxiously, imagining any number of mishaps. He halted at the doorway. Severus was sprawled on the dingy rug looking up at him in consternation. He walked over and offered him a hand. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I think so.” The man struggled up onto the sofa after shrugging off Remus’ attempts to lift him. “I sometimes forget,” he elaborated obscurely.

“Pardon?” _Forget what exactly?_

“Yes,” Severus murmured, straightening his weathered black robes awkwardly.

They gave an appearance of melting as they descended his solid torso and flattened out against the sofa after mid thigh; it was more disturbing to Remus than the prospect of seeing the man’s remaining stumps of leg.

“I forget sometimes, when I first wake up. I begin to rise as I have always done – to find that my legs are no longer there to stand on,” he finished quietly.

Remus’ heart flipped over with what felt like a small blue whale following in its wake.

“I must have fallen asleep from the sheer tedium of trying to read that book,” Severus added, pointing an accusing finger at Remus’ dog-eared copy of ‘A Literary Overview of the Works of Gilderoy Lockhart’ that rested inoffensively on the floor next to the sofa.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’ve often found it conducive to a good night’s sleep myself, Severus.”

“Hmf.”

“Excuse me a moment, I left the groceries in the hallway,” Remus said, backtracking to pick up the bags. “I’ll make some tea, shall I?” he offered as he carried the shopping past the lounge.

“That would be… nice.”

Remus frowned. He was certain ‘nice’ was not a word that had ever been in danger of overuse by Severus. “Coming right up,” he called.

He stashed the food away as the kettle boiled then fished out two tea bags to dump in his mismatched mugs. He couldn’t remember if Severus took milk or not. That was odd. They had spent many Order meetings huddled over teacups at Grimmauld Place. “Early onset dementia, old boy,” he muttered with a grimace – louder he asked, “Severus, black or white?” The answer “Dark, not black” filtered into the kitchen.

Carrying the mugs back to the lounge he gave one to Severus and slowly lowered himself into the armchair opposite with a deep sigh of pleasure. It was a short-lived respite; he had to tell Severus about his wand, something he was beginning to suspect would not surprise the man. He took a reviving gulp of tea in preparation.

“I ran into Tonks at the Ministry today,” he began. “I asked about your wand.”

Severus’ black eyes fixed on his face, bland expression sharpening to interest.

He took a deep breath. “She said that your wand was destroyed.”

There, it was done. And suddenly the tea in his hand held no appeal. He placed it on the floor beside his chair. After some moments, during which he studied his shoes in silence, he ventured a look at the man opposite. Severus had that faraway look in his eyes again, as if he had some secret place to retreat to when the present time and place was simply unbearable.

Perhaps that was a necessary reaction – a way to survive what had happened to him since the Aurors attacked him. Remus frowned, wondering how he could pull the man back into the here and now, or whether he should even try. Perhaps he should just allow Severus to make his way back in his own time.

He rose from his chair, picking up his half-drunk tea, and gently took the cooling mug Severus was cradling from his lax hands.

“I knew they would.”

Remus nearly slopped luke-warm tea over the man. “What?”

Severus turned his head to face him. “I knew they would destroy my wand, Remus. They couldn’t destroy me in the end, so they did the next best thing.”

He couldn’t decide what shocked him more: Severus calling him by his first name or the burgeoning knowledge that something truly awful had occurred while Severus had been in MLE custody.

Late that night he lay awake listening to the soft snoring coming from the other bed. He took solace from the fact that Severus was sleeping soundly as the man clearly needed his rest. He’d cooked them scrambled eggs and mushrooms for dinner – Severus’ emaciation had made him doubt whether he could digest anything heavier just yet. He stared through the dimness of the room at the lump Severus made under the bed covers. After everything the bastard had done to make his life hell over the years, he really shouldn’t do this; he shouldn’t feel this much. Slow tears rolled over the edge of his eyelids anyway; no amount of rationality could stop them and they dampened the pillow under his cheek. He smiled ruefully in the dark – who else did Severus have to cry for him?


	4. Terms of Reference

“Severus, there’s something I feel I should mention,” Remus began with no small amount of trepidation. Severus looked up from his breakfast with only the slightest trace of interest.

“Yes?”

“I imagine it’s been some time since you last washed. I’m going to run you a bath.”

Before Severus had a chance to protest, Remus stood, dumped his breakfast plate in the sink and headed for the bathroom. He quickly got the water flowing into the tub, added some heavy-duty soap, and laid out a large towel.

“Any time you’re ready, Severus,” he called from the hallway. He heard the soft clunk of the floating chair colliding occasionally with the wall as his guest progressed down the hallway. The levitation charm was wearing a bit thin; he should strengthen it while Severus was bathing. It was only a stop-gap solution and he would have to come up with another method for the man to get around. He had high hopes that Cho would be able to help him out there.

Severus lowered the chair beside the enormous, aging bathtub. Remus turned off the water, sighing with satisfaction at the density of the bubbles. He turned and noted the dubious look Severus was giving the bath; he’d always suspected that Severus and bath water only rarely paired up. He backed out to the doorway.

“I’ll leave you to it then. I can lend you some clean clothes if you’d like,” he offered. To his surprise, that garnered a small nod of acceptance from the man. “Right then, you get in and I’ll bring you something to wear.”

After collecting an armful of clothes, and trying not to feel self-conscious about their vintage, he left the bedroom and headed back down the hallway. A loud splash and a muffled shout caused him to jog the last few feet to the bathroom. He surveyed the scene in front of him; Severus dripping wet and gripping the edges of the tub with white knuckles. The man had obviously lost his balance as he entered the bathtub and suffered a dunking. Perhaps his altered centre of balance had unnerved him? That didn’t account for the continuing frantic grip or the way the man’s eyes fixed on his as he panted in obvious panic.

“What is it, Severus?” he asked softly, in the same tone he would have used with a flighty first year student.

“I… Could you stay?”

“Yes, of course. Do you need any help to wash?”

“Really,” Severus scoffed weakly, “I do think I can manage a face flannel, Lupin.”

Feeling slightly put upon, but determined to help the ever-contradictory bastard in spite of himself, Remus handed him a flannel without comment and sat on the aging wooden chair by the tub.

“So. Weather report says it might rain today,” he said, desperate for a topic that wouldn’t provoke a prickly, newly disabled ex-potions master.

“Hmf. They must have pulled their heads out of their arses long enough to look out of the window for that little nugget. Imbeciles.”

Remus sighed quietly and started reading the ingredients on the bottle of herbal shampoo, hoping that Severus wouldn’t, as he would be sure to criticise the ingredients.

He kept his eyes off Severus’ smoothly truncated thighs after the first brief sighting; he’d felt the urge to stare and knew it for something other than normal curiosity.

 

~~~^~~~

 

Remus had his head stuck in the fireplace listening to the person at the other end.

“Well, to cut a long story short, Prof… er, Remus, Professor Snape’s unable to tolerate any magical limb replacements,” Cho explained.

“And you read that in the file as well?” he queried; it was all getting a bit confusing. Added to that his knees were starting to feel every bit like the knees of a forty-year-old man; he was getting too old for floo calls and the discomfort wasn’t helping his thought process.

“Among other things, yes,” she confirmed and then stopped speaking, pursing her lips together. He didn’t really know her that well, but he was beginning to read those expressions now.

“You suspect that there was some further harm done to Severus, don’t you?” He’d had much the same suspicion fairly screaming at him to give voice to it.

“Suspect? Yes. But sure knowledge of it? Well, that’s a different thing.” She shook her head slowly, frowning. “It’s as if he was hit with a Dark curse, yet that particular hex is commonly used to simply incapacitate; its effect is temporary. Perhaps… Oh, I don’t know!”

“What? What are you thinking?” Remus prompted.

“Some idiotic theory, no doubt; do you think the Aurors may have altered their hex inadvertently?” Cho asked, her eyebrows rising to show how skeptical she was about her own idea.

Remus thought it through, doing a rough and dirty calculation of relative strength of a shared hex action, together with probable intent of all fifteen Aurors at that particular moment, and any stray variables. The occasion was singular and perhaps that was the key factor. It wasn’t every day a Dark Lord was defeated – there was bound to have been residual magical energies, dark energies, at large that day.

“They may have invented a new Dark curse,” he murmured slowly.

“Yes, that’s where I was going with it,” Cho agreed. “I think it may have altered them somehow as well,” she added.

“What do you mean?”

“Has Professor Snape talked about the time he spent locked up?”

“Not really, but I suspect he was not treated well.” That much was obvious. The rest was mere suspicion.

“Remus, I believe he was tortured,” Cho said in a rush. “It’s not said in so many words, but I can read between the lines a wee bit, and the Healer will not speak to me about it. I know the MLE can be a bit heavy-handed at times, but in this case it seems far worse than that.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what to say – thoughts dipped and whirled. He was giving houseroom to someone who may be seriously traumatised beyond even that of his physical mutilation. The responsibility was pressing down on his chest. He had only Cho’s discreet assistance; no one, not even Cho, was going to risk being seen helping Severus publicly. And then there was the issue of the Aurors responsible for Severus’ mistreatment; how could he hope to bring their actions to light – to bring them to justice?

His knees hurt.

“Perhaps, er, we’d better keep these suspicions to ourselves for now,” he said.

Cho gave a very feminine snort. “Who in Merlin’s name would I tell? Who would believe me, or even care?”

“Indeed. You would only bring unwanted attention to the two of us, and Severus as well. Not being noticed at all is probably his best option at the moment.” _And his best form of protection_ , he almost added, but Cho didn’t need to know the paranoid turn his thoughts had just taken.

~~~^~~~

That night, in the dark, Severus offered up another piece of the puzzle:

“They tied my hands behind my back and dropped me in the water. A tank six feet deep. I sank like a stone.”

Remus waited silently until he heard a soft snore. He slipped out of bed and stood next to Severus’ bed gazing down at his darkened shape. After a time he went back to his own bed, his lungs full of Severus’ clean, sharp scent.


	5. Distortion

“I have to work tonight, Severus,” Remus announced to the man opposite.

“You have a job?”

Remus smiled at the frank expression of surprise that accompanied this question. “Yes. I do security work for a muggle firm.”

“Security.”

Severus’ tone was uninflected but he could hear the question nonetheless. “Yes, I generally sit behind a desk all night, with occasional perambulations to alleviate the monotony,” he explained.

“I see.”

“It isn’t much but it pays the bills, and rather conveniently I can adjust my shifts to accommodate my absences on the full moon.”

“You have the Wolfsbane potion then?”

“Ah, no. This house has a rather stoutly built cellar that I make use of during that time,” he answered. Severus seemed almost chatty this morning and he took it as a positive sign – it would a good time to break another bit of news to the man. “Cho Chang is visiting today. I would like you to see her, Severus.”

“For what purpose?”

“She’s recently finished her studies and is about to be made a Healer,” he answered calmly, buttering his toast. If he kept the act up perhaps Severus would absorb his calm by osmosis. He took a bite of his toast and looked across the table to see black eyes glittering in his direction. Say what you would about the rest of him, Severus’ eyes were hypnotic. Almost too late he remembered the man’s Legilimency skills and dipped his gaze away; he wasn’t ready to have his thoughts rifled through yet, a task he was certain Severus could perform without a wand.

“You think she can give me back my legs?” Severus derided him.

“I’m sure that’s quite beyond her,” Remus answered evenly, “but she may be able offer a solution to your mobility problem. Anyway, no harm in seeing her, is there?”

He could practically feel the discomfort rolling off the man and clung to his own unflappable demeanour hoping he could outlast Severus’ disapproval.

“Hmf. I refuse to disrobe in front of a former student… a former female student. And you can stay to chaperone.”

It was a capitulation, and he was happy enough to indulge Severus’ conditions. “Very well.” He swigged down the last of his tea and rose from the table. “I’ll tidy up before our guest arrives.”

~~~^~~~

He’d retreated to the sitting room after breakfast and was shoving some fresh flowers in the chipped vase on the mantelpiece when he heard Severus speak from behind him.

“If I had a wand I could brew the potion for you.”

He fumbled and only just caught the vase before it hit the hearth; the man was getting so good at guiding Remus’ chair that there was no longer any sound of his approach. “Severus! I shall have to put a bell around your neck.”

“You would have to procure the ingredients of course, but that shouldn’t present too much difficulty for you. I can give you the name of a decent supplier,” Severus continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

Remus took a deep breath and caught up with what the man was saying; to have the Wolfsbane potion again would make such a difference to his life. But… if Severus was trying to pay him back because he felt beholden to him, he would have to handle this carefully.

“Severus, that is an extraordinary offer. It really is. But I wouldn’t like you to over-exert yourself with such a project just yet.”

“I’m not a cripple, damn you! It was just my legs they took – my hands, my mind; everything else is still functioning!”

“I’m sorry, Severus. I didn’t mean to imply anything of the sort. I’m sure that you are fully capable of brewing any potion you’d care to! However, there is the small matter of a wand, isn’t there? I haven’t managed to obtain one for you– and I do apologise for that. As to you over-exerting yourself, I’m afraid that’s just me being too much the mother hen, not a reflection on you or your abilities,” he explained in a mollifying tone.

Severus sniffed mightily. “I could try using your wand.”

Remus blinked. He couldn’t remember anyone else ever using his wand in all the years he’d owned it. “Er, I suppose you could try.”

The man’s eyes seemed to lose some of their ire. “Give it here,” he commanded.

Wordlessly, Remus handed it over. A strange sensation crept up his neck as he watched Severus’ deft fingers flip the wand end over end, inspecting the wood. It was well worn, but the wood was a potent yew and had a core of unicorn hair; there’d been many jokes made in school about Remus’ virginal nature because of that. Severus made an experimental swish that released a silver glow and set the curtains fluttering.

“Well,” Remus said, then stumbled to a verbal halt. His face had flushed and he was warm all over. What the hell had his wand _done?_

Severus grunted in surprise; he stared down at the wand. “It likes me.”

Remus had an inappropriate urge to giggle and say ‘it’s not the only one’. The doorbell chimed.

 _Saved!_ He slipped out of the room to let their guest inside.

“Hello there, Cho. Is it cold out?”

“Not so bad really. Oh, but it’s lovely and warm in here,” she answered with the same smile that had Harry head over heels in love with her as a teenager.

An answering smile appeared on Remus’ face. She’d grown into a stunning woman and he’d been too preoccupied before to pause and appreciate the fact.

“Come into the lounge,” he directed her, “Will you have some tea?”

“That would be great, thank you, Remus.” She nodded. “Er, where is–”

“In here, Miss Chang,” Severus intoned from the sofa in the sitting room. “And you needn’t think yourself on first name terms with me.”

“Of course not,” Cho agreed, walking into the room. “To me you will always be Professor Snape.”

“Hmf. What am I to subject myself to then?”

Remus turned and headed towards the kitchen, leaving them to tussle it out between them. He huffed a small laugh when it was safe to do so without being heard. Cho was beautiful and charming; Severus couldn’t keep up the hostility for much longer.

He frowned in thought as he made a pot of tea and collected some cups for the tray. He wondered if Cho was going to mention her suspicions about what went on while Severus had been in prison. He hoped she wouldn’t. Remus felt that Severus might retreat behind his mental walls if they broached the subject too soon. He thought that Severus was making his own way around to talking about it. _Take as long as you like, my friend – I’m not going anywhere._ His hands stopped for a few seconds while he examined the word ‘friend’. Was Severus his friend? _Well, if he isn’t then this arrangement is pretty perverse._

He took the tray into the sitting room and found Cho and Severus facing each other tensely. The young Healer was kneeling in front of Severus where he sat on the sofa; she had her wand in her hand and was obviously in the process of casting diagnostic spells.

“Is everything alright?” he asked as he placed the tea tray on the coffee table.

“Professor Snape is–”

“Perfectly,” Severus replied.

“–choosing not to discuss his recent medical history, Remus,” Cho replied.

“I see,” Remus responded. Cho had some way to go yet with her bedside manner, at least as far as irascible amputees were concerned. “Perhaps a cup of tea will ease our nerves,” he added, pouring a cup first for Cho, then Severus. He handed them over and got a cup for himself before sitting in his armchair.

“I need to actually see the site of his injuries as well and he refuses to take off his trousers,” grumbled Cho before taking a sip of her tea.

“There’s nothing to see, you foolish wench! My so-called injuries are gone.” The man turned to Remus with a pained expression. “Is this really necessary?”

“I think it is, Severus,” he replied gently. “And the sooner we can help Cho to finish her examination the sooner we can all relax.”

Severus’ lips all but disappeared into a thin slit and he placed his cup on the floor beside the sofa. Next he undid the button and fly on Remus’ borrowed trousers and wriggled them down over his hips and what remained of his legs.

He revealed a pair of Remus’ under shorts as well.

Cho lost no time ditching her cup and taking up her wand once more. She waved it closely around the ends of Severus’ legs, her expression frowning and intent.

“There is a residual trace of magic here, on both legs. It feels wrong.” She looked up at Severus. “You’re still in pain, aren’t you?”

“I can assure you, dear girl, this is negligible compared to my ‘recent medical history’,” Severus answered in voice so dry it made Remus gulp down another mouthful of tea in sympathetic response.

He was battling a tendency to stare at Severus’ legs again. The skin was so pale and smooth; dark hairs stood out in contrast. He had no scarring from the hexing, his thighs ended smoothly at what Remus would guess to be two inches from where his knees used to be; it looked oddly natural.

Cho seemed unfazed now that she could carry out her work without hindrance. She moved her wand up to Severus’ torso and clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve been teetering on the brink of malnutrition – at a guess I would say that you were starved and one of the guards was sneaking you some nutripotion when the Aurors weren’t looking.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose minutely but he offered no comment. He snapped a quick look at Remus, but dropped his gaze before their eyes could meet.

Remus sought to ease the awkwardness somehow. “Cho, that residual magic – is that why Severus can’t use the magical prosthetic limbs?” he enquired.

“Almost certainly, yes. Unless we can neutralise the residual field or adapt the limbs then we’ll have to investigate alternatives,” she confirmed, waving at the ends of Severus’ legs.

“Do you have any ideas, Severus? You still have my wand; can you think of something that would neutralise the field?”

The man frowned, staring down at his legs in thought, then made a complicated movement with Remus’ wand.

He held his breath. He had felt another reaction to Severus using his wand and hoped he wasn’t too pink in the face.

“No, no change.”

Remus let out his breath, “Oh well, perhaps we’ll think of something later. I have some reference books in the bedroom.”

Cho rummaged in her small satchel and pulled out a bottle. “I’d like you to take four drops of this today, Professor, and two drops every day for a week.”

She held the potion out for Severus who greeted it with a dismissive snort.

“Severus…” he warned in a low voice. _Great Merlin – I’ve just treated Severus like an errant school child!_ He felt no remorse when the man glanced at him and took the bottle from Cho’s outstretched hand. _Whatever works._

“I’ll come back next week and see how you’re progressing,” Cho said as she hefted her bag. “If you find a spell that can help with the magical residue, let me know and I’ll bring some limbs for him to try.”

She addressed this last comment to Remus who had stood up to bid her goodbye.

“Though I can’t stand, I am still here, Miss Chang,” the man drawled from the sofa.

Cho flushed a darker shade of her usual honeyed tan. “I’m sorry, Professor… I, well I’ve made arrangements with Remus up until today, so…”

“Oh, be off with you then, and if I were a nice man I am sure I would offer you my thanks for your time and expertise.”

Remus walked her to the door, pressing a small collection of galleons into her hand. “I’m sorry he’s so difficult, Cho,” he said quietly as she stepped out into the cold air.

“Oh, no – he’s mellowed quite a bit actually!” she said brightly, then whirled and Apparated away.


	6. Safety in Objects

Remus wrapped his sandwiches and dropped them into his worn backpack.

“My, my. Don’t you look… uniformed.”

He sketched a little bow, smiling with arms outstretched. “So, what do you think, Severus, is it true what they say about a man in uniform?”

“And what would that be? That they only follow orders?”

He laughed and pointed at the stove. “That stew will be done in about thirty minutes and if you find it in your heart to leave me some for breakfast I would be most grateful.”

“What time do you expect to be home?”

“Usually around six, unless the unheard of happens and we actually have a break in,” he replied, hefting his pack and picking up his house keys.

“Is there any way I can contact you?”

Remus stopped his progress out of the kitchen. Severus seemed as if he was determined not to sound apprehensive; his question was laced with bored sarcasm. He frowned, digging in his pocket and pulling out his mobile phone.

“I usually use this for work but I’ll just tell them I forgot to take it.” He wrote a phone number on the doorjamb with his ballpoint pen. “All you do is put the number in, like this,” He leant close to Severus to demonstrate, “and press the call button, like this, and when someone answers – it might be me – just ask for Rod Lucas.” He handed it to Severus who stared down at the small device as if it might explode.

“Thank you,” the man murmured.

“Not a problem,” Remus assured him, “and my wand is in the bedroom if you need to use it for anything. I don’t take it to work.”

“Isn’t that a bit risky?”

“I don’t think so – I have capsicum spray and a big stick,” he smiled in reply.

The man scoffed, “I’m sure _you_ think it’s big.”

Remus smiled and walked to the door. “You behave yourself while I’m gone – no parties!”

“Hmf.”

 

~~~^~~~

 

Remus received the phone call at 1am. Holding the receiver to his ear he heard fast, short breaths.

“Severus?”

The lack of response didn’t really surprise him.

“It’s quite normal to be anxious, Severus.” Remus paused, wondering what he could possibly say to push back the horrors that obviously haunted the man. “I’m halfway through my shift, it’s been unrelievedly boring for the most part – I’m considering taking up smoking just to have the distraction of feeling my lungs slowly filling with toxins.”

There was a soft snort in the receiver and then a click as the line went dead. Remus smiled and put the phone down. A frown followed shortly after and he stared unseeing at the array of CTV screens in front him.

 

~~~^~~~

 

Remus walked through the front door trailing an infant day behind him. He croaked through a yawn – “I need a cup of tea with all due haste.”

“On the table.”

He blinked at the scene that greeted him in the kitchen. Severus sat sipping from one of his mugs while another sat brimming with tea in his own place. “Oh, you’re up,” he observed redundantly.

“Very good. I take it that you are soon to be down?”

“Tea first,” he rasped, sitting down abruptly and taking a mouthful from the mug. “Aaah,” he moaned blissfully, tipping his head back and feeling the jolt of several vertebrae realigning.

“I heard that.”

Severus’ voice sounded vaguely disapproving, as if Remus was somehow to blame for his own fatigue after a twelve-hour shift. Feeling not the least guilty, he put the cup down and rolled his shoulders back, treating his audience to a cacophony of osteo-crackling.

“That’s disgraceful!”

He shrugged, which prompted a short crunch from his shoulder blades. “Not much I can do about it – it’s a long shift and I get criminally stiff sitting through most of it,” he responded mildly. He took another gulp of tea and sighed in pleasure.

“Any more?”

Severus pushed the teapot closer to him.

“Lovely!” He poured the dark brew until his cup was once more brimming and hummed happily as he swallowed down half of it.

“Breakfast?” The question came from his dark observer.

He yawned, blinking to keep his eyes focussed. “Ah, no. Too tired. Lovely tea,” he offered and then drained the cup.

“You’d best go up to bed then,” the man ordered, though without a staircase Remus wondered what Severus meant by ‘going up’.

“Er,” he began vaguely, then promptly forgot what he was about to say. “I’m going to bed,” he announced.

“Just so.”

Was Severus laughing at him? He decided not to be annoyed. In fact he quite liked that Severus sounded amused. Remus staggered upright and made his way to the door. “You coming?” He looked back at the man, who suddenly didn’t look very amused at all.

“What?”

“You tired? Did you sleep last night?” he clarified, wondering foggily if he had said anything offensive.

“Ah. Yes, I did sleep eventually. Perhaps I will nap later in the day.”

“Oh. Right then. See you,” Remus waved like a badly coordinated puppet and staggered off to launch himself lustily at Morpheus.

 

~~~^~~~

 

“It’s Friday,” Remus remarked.

“It has been all day, so I believe.”

Remus ignored the sarcasm and elaborated, “Tonks usually rolls up with a curry at dinner time.” Though perhaps she might not today, he thought, considering that their last meeting at the Ministry had been somewhat heated, at least on his part.

“I see. Perhaps it would be best for me to remain in the bedroom then.”

“Severus! That isn’t necessary, I –”

“Of course; you’ll be using the bedroom. Perhaps I could just sit out in the garden shed? Can you light a candle in the window when you’re done?”

The sarcasm was thick enough to slice and make sandwiches. Remus took a deep breath to control his temper.

“What I wanted to ask was whether you like curry.”

“Whether I like curry,” Severus repeated slowly. “You can’t mean –”

“There is always too much for the two of us to finish anyway, and I just wondered if you would mind joining us for a meal,” Remus added.

Privately he wondered if Tonks would behave and keep her personal prejudices to herself for the duration, but he might as well get the encounter over and done with. He intended to have Severus around for quite a while and his friends must either get used to it or cross him off their Christmas card list.

“I quite enjoy an occasional curry, actually,” Severus finally said.

Remus looked back down at his newspaper and smiled. “Good.”

 

~~~^~~~

 

So far Tonks hadn’t made the evening into a complete disaster. As usual she’d arrived at seven-thirty with takeaway bags from The Curry House. Remus’d had an anxious moment when he’d first informed her that Severus would be joining them, but then she’d shrugged and rolled her eyes, saying “He’s not a stray puppy, Remus! He’s a dark wizard down on his luck – and trust you not to know the difference.”

That had been the worst of it so far. His muttered response of “And if you’d remember that I’m a Dark Creature then maybe you will understand why he’s here,” seemed to have silenced her complaints.

They had each finished a bowl of curry and rice, Tonks and Remus were helping themselves to seconds, when, with a sense of inevitability, Remus watched as Tonks upended an almost full carton of rogan josh into Severus’ lap.

“Shite!”

“Fuck!”

 _That combination of alto and bass is really quite lovely_ , Remus mused, momentarily dumfounded at the sight of Severus covered in fragrant sauce.

Tonks looked over at him whilst trying to mop at Severus’ lap with paper serviettes; he was just as determined to prevent this action, batting away at her hands with increasingly heated expostulations.

“Do you bloody mind?”

“Sorry, Snape. Remus? Tea towel?” she pleaded.

Finally his brain managed to re-engage and he dragged his eyes away from the disaster long enough to stand and fetch some towels. His wand was still in the bedroom.

“Here, Severus.” He handed the towels to the man. “I’ll get my wand and you can clean up properly. Has it burned you?”

“No, it’s cooled somewhat since we started eating,” Severus said grumpily.

“Good thing I didn’t think to do a heating charm,” Tonks remarked.

“Indeed,” Severus sneered.

“Oh alright, Snape! It’s just a little spill – it’s not like I cut your legs off!”

Remus stared in shock, his eyes unblinking as he looked from one to the other. _Why? Why would she say that_ , he thought helplessly. Was he the only one that gave Severus credit for real human emotions? Did everyone else think him devoid of such vulnerabilities? For the first time Remus realised what a true act of sacrifice it was for the man to have struck down Albus Dumbledore with the killing curse; he had eliminated his one staunch supporter – the one wizard Severus knew without doubt would fight for him.

Severus had not responded to her outburst. He sat mopping at the mess she had left on his robes, his movements conveying a violent energy.

“Tonks–”

“Look, I think I’ll go home, Remus. It’s been a long day.”

He felt instant relief. Tonks scrambled to gather her cloak and bag.

“Well, thanks for dinner, Tonks.” Remus shrugged awkwardly; he realised he actually didn’t want her to come back next week, but didn’t know how to say so – especially with Severus in the room.

“Take some of this with you,” he said, gathering up the containers still half full on the table. 

“Ta. That’s lunch sorted for tomorrow.” She kissed him on the cheek then took the cartons from him juggling them in such a way as to make him break into sweat of apprehension.

“Snape,” she murmured stiffly without looking in his direction before turning to the door. Severus didn’t look up.

On the doorstep, out of earshot of the kitchen, Remus finally spoke up.

“You know, Tonks–”

“No need, love,” she pre-empted him, “this is the end. The _real_ end, isn’t it?”

“What?” He’d just wanted to stop her visits while Severus was staying with him. He didn’t hate her!

“I mean… you’ve moved on at last, and there’s really no room for me here now,” she added with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Remus was dumbstruck. Unable to respond, he stood on the step with his mouth half open ready to say something but, with nothing forthcoming from his brain, was instead rendered mute.

“You, my dear Remus, look like the dictionary definition of clueless,” Tonks chortled, this time sounding genuinely amused.

“But–”

“Take care, love,” she said softly, leaning in and giving him another kiss, this one full on the mouth. She hadn’t done that with him for a very long time, and he responded automatically, his hands coming up to her head, her shoulder, then down to her waist…

She broke away at last, breathing quickly; vestiges of their initial chemistry working a kind of magic on them both. He felt dizzy.

“Uh-uh. That way lies madness,” Tonks whispered, closing her eyes. She Apparated with a sharp _crack._

He supposed she wouldn’t be back next week.

Remus wandered inside again, determinedly not thinking about what she’d said. He retrieved his wand from the bedroom and wordlessly holding it out to Severus, receiving another swelling sense of _something_ as they each paused a moment, holding the wand together. He let go and stared down into those dark, dark eyes, which held secrets at which he could only guess.


	7. Down Falling

Looking back, it was obvious that he and Tonks had been an ill-fitting pair from the start; funny how no one apart from Remus had thought so at the time. When Severus had asked him later on the night of the disastrous takeaway why they had split, he tried to answer in a more thoughtful way, to look beyond those obvious differences – which had always been there and not necessarily precluded a happy match.

“We drifted away from each other. It happened gradually once Voldemort was defeated.” Remus’d paused, trying to recreate the sequence of events. “The urgency was fading; less and less time spent searching for Death Eaters and more time attending parties and pub nights,” he’d explained, “Suddenly we were finding ourselves at different parties, different pubs; she had her friends and, apparently, I had mine,” he’d finished, shrugging in the flickering light emanating from the fireplace.

“Ah, the age difference,” Severus had offered.

“That was certainly a factor, but I think it was more a difference in interests; we never shared a focus on what we wanted to do after the war – beyond sleep for a year, of course,” he’d said smiling, then continued, “One morning we woke up next to each other wondering what the hell we were doing sharing a bed. But it was the only time we connected; the rest of our days, and most evenings, we spent apart.”

At that point he had experienced delayed surprise that Severus had asked such a personal question. Perhaps more surprising had been his own willingness to open up and answer as truthfully as he could.

After that he had gone to bed, in the same room as Severus, and had most certainly not intended to lie awake for two hours puzzling over Tonks’ mystifying farewell.

 

Today being Saturday he was expecting the odd visitor or two. After his experience of Tonks’ visit the night before, his hopes weren’t high that his small circle of friends would widen itself to include one Severus Snape. But Remus had made his decision; other people would accept it or they wouldn’t – it was out of his hands.

He poured more tea from the pot, only half an eye on what he was doing while most of his attention was focused on the front page off _The Weekend Prophet_. It bore yet another trashy headline article about the increasingly hard-to-spot Harry Potter. He had half a mind to feed the scurrilous rag to the kitchen fireplace, but decided to skim through it in the spirit of ‘know thine enemy’. There was lurid speculation on the poor boy’s love life, which included a strangely unimaginative reiteration of his broken engagement to Ginny Weasely (and, unlike the week before, no mention of an unhealthy obsession with goats), wild theories on what particular mental illness he had contracted, and, to cap it off, a list of banned potions to which he was supposed to have developed an addiction. Remus chuffed noisily over his teacup.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Here,” Remus said, throwing the paper over the table in Severus’ direction. “The gentlewizards of the press are at it again – when will they leave the poor boy alone for Merlin’s sake?”

Severus frowned down at the article.

Belatedly Remus realised that Severus might not exactly be the most sympathetic audience for the trials and tribulations of Harry Potter since for most of the Harry’s existence Severus had thought he was a spoiled brat. Remus massaged his forehead waiting for the sarcasm that would surely follow.

“The sacrificial lamb,” Severus murmured, flipping the page to read the end of the article. “I take it none of this is true? I have been somewhat out of the loop of late.”

“Well,” he’d just begun when the doorbell rang. “Ah. Visitor,” he stated.

“Shall I–”

“No, Severus,” Remus ordered, holding up a hand. “Stay here, finish your tea. Honestly,” he sighed, rising to answer the door, “start behaving as though you are a free man and not a criminal hiding from the law!” he complained over his shoulder.

Half turning back, Remus waved a hand at the newspaper on the table. “And… the bit about breaking up with Ginny is true. Nothing else,” he finished, opening the door to see Harry’s bespectacled face regarding him. It was a good, solid door – he was quite sure that Harry hadn’t heard him, nevertheless his enthusiastic bellow of “Hello, Harry!” sounded a bit forced even to his own ears.

“Hi, Remus,” the boy returned his greeting, “ I hope it’s not too early to drop by, it’s just – I have this mob outside the house and if I’d stayed at home any longer there would have been blood in the street.”

“No, no, we were just finishing breakfast. Come in, come in.” He ushered Harry inside, peering behind him at the two suspicious characters – one with a camera and tripod hanging from a shoulder strap – that lurked at the corner of the road.

Harry walked past him towards the kitchen and Remus muttered “ _Accio_ wand,” holding his hand backwards – in the manner of a relay runner waiting for his baton – without taking his eyes off the reporters. As he felt the slap of his wand in his hand (a mere second after a startled yelp from Harry in the hallway) he was silently shaping the incantation.

He smiled grimly as the camera case developed teeth and started to chew on the first reporter’s cloak, while the tripod unhitched itself from its shoulder strap, extended its legs and took off after the second reporter. “Good job,” he complimented his wand, giving it a pat before tucking it in his belt.

He caught up to Harry only to see him standing stiffly in the kitchen staring at Severus, who, predictably, stared right back.

“Harry?” Remus quizzed the boy with a frown, but received no sign of a response.

After a few seconds he realised that they weren’t exactly _just_ staring and his wand was starting to feel quite warm against his hip.

“What the bloody–”

His wand slithered up out of his waistband and flew across the kitchen to Severus’ suddenly outstretched hand.

“Shit,” Remus hissed in surprise, moving his hand almost unconsciously in an attempt to follow his wand. Perhaps he’d better just wait and see what would happen next.

Harry’s breath was coming quick and Severus’ hair looked damp, clinging to his forehead and the sides of his face; he could see the gleam of his crooked teeth through the man’s restrained grimace.

Remus waited.

Harry breathed heavily with a faint sobbing wheeze on every other exhalation. Severus’ hand trembled while holding Remus’ wand pointed at the boy. Just at the point when Remus was debating whether to tackle one or the other, Severus dropped the wand on the table with a loud groan and tilted forward to join it, his head touching down with a solid thump. Harry staggered backwards as if let loose from an invisible rubber band, and then he dashed past Remus with an apologetic “’scuse me!” Remus heard retching from the direction of the bathroom.

“Severus!”

Holding the Severus’ shoulders Remus tipped him slowly against the back of the chair. He pushed the sweaty strands of hair away from Severus’ face and, snatching up the tea towel from the table, blotted perspiration from his forehead. Remus’ hand cradled Severus’ skull carefully as he studied the man’s slack features; he was out cold. Reassured by the throbbing pulse visible at temple and neck, Remus moved to support Severus more securely, using his wand to move a chair in close beside the unconscious wizard; he was fairly certain that he would regain consciousness within a few seconds. Sure enough, as Remus listened to Harry’s retching peter out and stop, Severus stirred and moaned faintly.

“Easy, my friend; you blacked out for a bit,” Remus cautioned.

He waved his wand at one of the kitchen cupboards and brought down a tin of chocolate. He always had some handy; hard experience had knocked the habit into him over the years. He broke off a piece one-handed, the other arm still around Severus’ shoulders.

“Here, try and get this down – it’ll help.”

Severus man shuddered and opened his mouth obediently and Remus popped the square of chocolate inside for him as Harry reappeared at the kitchen doorway.

Remus knew his face was probably stiff with repressed anger as he studied the boy easing wearily into a chair. It was all he could do not to drop Severus and lunge across the table at Harry.

Harry braced his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Sorry, Professor,” he murmured miserably.

For a second Remus thought he was apologising to him, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Severus’ eyebrow rise slightly and realised that Harry was actually using Severus’ title, wonder of wonders!

“What the hell was that about?” Remus demanded, swinging his gaze from one man to the other.

“He felt the need to inspect my credentials,” Severus began, leaning forward suddenly and divesting himself of Remus’ physical support. “I saw no reason not to oblige him,” he finished with a faint echo of his usual sneer. Unprompted, he broke of another piece of chocolate, then pushed the tin across the table to his erstwhile adversary.

Harry finally looked up and seemed to focus slowly on Remus. He put a large piece of chocolate in his mouth and shrugged as if to say ‘Sorry, can’t speak with my mouth full’.

“Harry!” Remus objected. He sighed and decided to calm down; Severus and Harry seemed stable enough right now – no outright hostility. Perhaps this was simply how they functioned in the same room post-war; a challenge, a response, and eventually an armed truce.

Remus sighed in frustration. He would have cheerfully banged their heads together, only Severus had already managed that when he’d hit the table earlier.

Harry had finally finished his piece of chocolate. He peered out at Remus from under a tangle of dark hair; it had grown even longer and more unkempt since the last time Remus had seen him. There was something a little disturbing about the way he looked – he briefly wondered if there was a small grain of truth to the newspaper’s claims about Harry’s mental state.

“It was my fault, Remus,” Harry muttered, “I cast _legilimens_ the moment I saw him.”

“But why?” Remus demanded. He was careful not to shout, but he knew his own voice sounded hurt and confused, as if Harry had attacked him, not his houseguest.

“It’s what I do,” the boy whispered in answer, “I didn’t know he’d be here and… I forgot about his pardon.”

Remus felt the hair on his neck rise and a growl lurking under his skin.

“In the Professor’s absence,” Harry nodded with odd courtesy at Severus, “I’m the best Occlumens available to the Ministry,” he said without a hint of hubris. “The MLE calls me in to conduct discreet interrogations on captured Death Eaters. Apparently, I’m beyond the taint of corruption.”

Severus snorted without any humour. Remus couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment; where the hell had Harry been when Severus was in the clutches of Aurors gone suddenly Dark?


	8. At Tension

A hot mouth closed around him and he arched into the delicious heat, moaning, groaning. A firm tongue stroked along his length; it wouldn’t be long now. As if sensing this, the mouth moved its lips to the top, squeezing, licking – increasing the pace…

_Er, wait a minute–_

Unbearable pleasure, tongue in his slit, a firm, sucking rhythm…

_But–_

That’s it, almost there; thrust, thrust… Coming!

_Shit! What–_

Remus stared wild-eyed at the surrounding darkness, his breathing laboured, his heart pounding a military tattoo. He squinted at the other bed – nothing but a vague patch of not-black – trying to smother his panting enough to hear whether Severus was stirring. Nothing. Or, at least, nothing discernable above the thudding of Remus’ heartbeat. Gradually his breathing slowed, lassitude pulled at him as he forced his eyes wide, resisting the urge to blink or yawn. He relived those last moments, the wonderful sensations of an expert blowjob; his cock gave a subdued twitch in acknowledgement. He grimaced and groped around for his wand – there was a certain by-product he would rather not fall asleep on. His wand eluded him and he carefully eased out of bed. He really didn’t want Severus to wake up with his scent heavy in the air; the man would surely assume that Remus had been laying awake wanking like a teenager, not that the truth was any less undignified – but at least he was not guilty of any conscious involvement.

He padded barefoot to the bathroom, pulling the door closed before he turned on the light. He slid out of his pyjama pants and started the shower. Stepping in, he sighed at the pounding of the hot water, his shoulders dropping with relief. He lathered some soap and washed his groin and belly and then turned around and let the water work its magic on his neck and back. Finally he shut off the taps and stepped out, grabbing his towel and rubbing dry briskly before the heat dissipated.

No clean pyjamas. Remus bit his lip.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door, slapping off the light switch. He groped his way back – werewolves didn’t actually have handy night vision – and slipped into his bed. He wrestled the damp towel off and dropped it over the side. His houseguest could puzzle over that in the morning if he wished.

And on the issue of puzzles… There was something that tickled at the edge of his memory, something dancing out his mind’s reach every time he concentrated, striving to bring it kicking and screaming into conscious thought. He yawned. _Ah, well, can’t be that important._

When he finally did remember, he was so close to sleep that it really didn’t seem significant that his giver of extraordinary dream blowjobs had not shaved for some time, and that the subsequent beard burn had only made the illusory experience better.

 

~~~^~~~

 

In the morning Remus was making toast when Severus appeared in the kitchen for breakfast. His impulse to cuddle the man confused the hell out of Remus. It was true that Severus was at this moment somewhat disabled, but Remus held no doubts about the man’s ability to flay him alive (with or without a wand) should Remus choose to lay affectionate hands on his person. Whatever had prompted his unconscious mind to suggest such an unspeakably foolhardy act?

Remus shook his head slightly in the vague hope that his errant impulses could be dislodged by that simple act of negation. He peered at Severus as the man buttered his toast; no sign of discomfort there – it was all on Remus’ side. Well, they had plenty to do today and perhaps keeping busy would help to push the odd thoughts out of his head.

They had arranged an expedition to Spinner’s End with Harry. Word was the place had been ransacked, but there were likely some artefacts and personal items of Severus’ that hadn’t been found by either the MLE or the remnants of Voldemort’s loyal followers. The law of averages was against all of Severus’ various methods of concealment failing. Personally, Remus would be happy just to recover Severus’ clothes. His own supply, already stretched thin covering him, would not cover Severus as well for much longer.

A confident knock sounded at the front door and Remus took a last gulp of tea before he rose to open it. They were expecting a small gathering, Harry having asked his friends to accompany them in the belief that there was indeed safety in numbers when it came to rummaging through a former Death Eater’s former abode. Harry had made some esoteric sort of peace with Severus; their accidental occlumentic duel had apparently erased Harry’s long cherished grudge against the potions master. Remus could only speculate on the revelatory nature of said duel, but he did conclude that Harry quite likely knew far more about Severus’ recent incarceration than he did.

He didn’t know how he felt about that. Perhaps he should press Harry for information.

He opened the door to reveal Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. And what exactly had Harry told his two friends to induce them to come to the aid of Severus Snape? He hated the idea that an ever-widening circle of people might know more about Severus’ recent experiences than he did.

“Hermione, Ron; it’s so good to see you!” he greeted them, receiving a nod from Ron and a broad smile from Hermione in answer.

“I’ve brought something that the Professor might find useful,” Hermione said. She took a small item out of her pocket and waved her wand quickly, causing the contraption to swell to its proper size.

Remus frowned down at it.

“It’s a wheelchair,” she explained patiently.

“I know what it is.” He kept his voice level – he was trying not to snap at her. Actually, it looked like a distinct improvement over the last version of wheeled chair he’d seen Severus using. In the absence of magic, muggles had become the most inventive technicians.

Hermione pushed the chair into the house; it glided easily over the threshold, moving without any discernable squeaks or creaks.

“I know it looks clumsy,” she said, “but it’s really very maneuverable, and the frame is quite lightweight.” 

Ron moved up behind her and placed a supportive arm around her shoulders, as if to guard against any criticism Remus might make.

“It’s very thoughtful of you,” he managed, tamping down his irritation at having the device in his house; he was being irrational – this mode of transport was no doubt the practical choice for Severus if he was to accompany them to Spinner’s End today. “I’m sure Severus will find it extremely useful,” he finished, smiling at Hermione. “Come into the kitchen and have some tea. We’re just waiting on Harry and then we’ll head out.”

After a second’s hesitation Remus took hold of the wheelchair and pushed it after the two newcomers. _I suppose he’ll need to test drive it._

His houseguest eyed the contraption with a sneer but nonetheless condescended to sit on it and try out the steering and brakes. After a muttered comment on the comparative usefulness of re-inventing the wheel yet again, he proceeded to punish the hall rug. In a mercifully short time, for the rug, Severus pronounced his grudging acceptance of Hermione’s gift, and the doorbell rang as if on cue.

Remus let Harry in with instructions to sit and have a cup of tea before they embarked on their trip. Remus needed to get his mind back to the task that lay ahead of them. He sat back down at the table, rubbing his forehead and trying not to let his eyes stray to Severus all the time. Remus couldn’t shake the feeling that Severus looked small in the wheelchair, and that it wasn’t right that Severus should look _small_ of all things.

In the course of conversation it turned out that Hermione and Ron had been unaware that Harry was freelancing for the MLE.

“It’s a temporary arrangement, just until the Death Eaters are all processed. I’m not under any kind of binding contract or anything,” Harry asserted hastily.

If Remus knew Hermione, that was hardly likely to mollify her.

It didn’t.

“Who cares about contracts, temporary or otherwise? Harry, you can’t keep doing that kind of work, it’s immoral! Not to mention what it’s probably doing to you psychologically!” Hermione insisted.

“Cyclo what?” Ron asked.

Hermione slapped his shoulder without any real force. “Hush you!” She focussed on Harry once more.

“Harry, it’s not right. It just isn’t!”

She was voicing all the objections that Remus had wanted to shout out yesterday. He mentally cheered her on while looking closely at Harry’s reaction.

Severus was oddly silent, sipping another cup of tea and appearing quite above it all.

Harry looked down at the table, his fingers gripping his cup in the same manner his jaw muscles clenched at the corners of his face.

“I have my reasons for doing this and I just have to ask that you respect that,” the boy ground out.

“Okay, mate. Enough said,” Ron said quickly. Remus noticed his hand on Hermione’s shoulder tighten briefly, and she looked up at him with a frown, words jostling to get out of her mouth. He kissed her and managed through that time-honoured ploy to completely distract her from her target.

It appeared to operate as some kind of signal between them, since Remus observed Hermione visibly deflate and give her boyfriend a small smile before eyeing Harry with concern. Remus had the distinct impression that she was not finished by any means. He was relieved that Harry’s friends would be on the case soon, since he wasn’t sure how much influence he could bring to bear on the boy himself. It remained to be seen whether Remus’ position as a former DADA instructor would carry any weight with Harry.

An awkward silence reigned, everyone having finished their tea, and he saw no reason not to break up the tense tableau straight away.

“Right then, I have made up a portkey to get Severus and myself to our destination, so we shall see you shortly. If you could Apparate from the sitting room the neighbours are less likely to hear you and assume there’s a gang war next door.”

Harry stood up immediately and headed out. Hermione paused on her way past and held his gaze. He smiled ruefully.

“I can’t tell him what to do, Hermione. He’s a grown man.” _Despite the fact that I’m always thinking of him as a boy._

“I know, but–”

“Yes, I agree,” Remus interrupted, “Let me see if I can talk to him about it, find out why he’s doing this; there must be some compelling reason.”

“Thank you, Remus,” she breathed, and then led Ron out the door.

“See you there,” the redhead called.

Remus briefly wondered at Ron’s unflappable poise. When had he become such a steady personality?

“What complicated little lives you Gryffindors contrive for yourselves. Has the end of the war made existence so very dull for you all?”

Remus spun around; he’d forgotten Severus was still in the room, listening to all their tortured exchanges.

“Don’t you think there’s something strange going on with Harry?”

“There is. There always was.”

Remus’ laugh was short but genuine. “Severus, you are impossible!”

“I feel certain that I am. What of it?”

He smiled down at the man. “Just hold the bloody spoon,” he commanded, holding out the worn wooden implement. “Hurry – two seconds left!”

Severus grabbed hold of the proffered spoon and stared up at Remus. Was he smiling? So hard to tell at this angle – Remus suddenly wanted very much to add a levitation charm to the wheelchair.

Then his stomach was yanked inside out and they were on their way to Spinner’s End.


	9. Home Again

They arrived at Spinner’s End without incident. Remus stood gazing at the grim looking building. For a start, every pane of glass was gone. It gave the Snape family home the look of a toothless hag. 

Remus shuddered slightly and looked at Severus. “Home sweet home?” he asked softly.

“Not now, not ever.”

The rest of their expedition party had arrived and had lost no time scouting the perimeter of the property for lingering spells or traps. They’d made very good use of the _Notice Me Not_ charm and he was confident the muggles in the area, what few he could see, would not be observant enough to suspect their presence. He decided it wasn’t necessary to cast the charm on himself or Severus; they would appear quite harmless and uninteresting – just a middle-aged bloke and his wheelchair-bound mate.

He’d dressed strictly muggle this morning, and no one could see that Severus was wearing a robe seated as he was.

Remus eyed the exterior walls and cast a few _Aperio_ spells just to be sure the house itself hadn’t been cursed. The spells did reveal magical scars, but they seemed quite old; he could find nothing that had been placed recently.

“I hope the books are still there,” Severus murmured, though he didn’t sound at all hopeful to Remus.

“Let’s go in and see if we can salvage anything, shall we?” Remus suggested.

He moved behind Severus’ chair and took hold of the handles.

“I can bloody push it myself!” Severus hissed at him over his shoulder.

“Of course,” Remus agreed hastily, taking his hands off the chair and moving to walk beside the man. Severus shoved impatiently at the chrome circles that protruded from the sides of the wheelchair.

Remus studied the motion from the corner of his eye, striving not be caught staring. _He’s going to exhaust himself in no time._ He called out to Harry.

“The front is clear, we’re going in.”

There were three steps leading up to the door. Severus stopped and glared at them.

“Hold on,” Remus said, reaching for his wand. He looked down the street for any witnesses before he levitated the wheelchair up the steps, setting it as gently as he could in front of the weather beaten door.

“I’ll need to borrow that,” Severus stated. He held his hand out without turning to face Remus.

“Of course,” Remus replied, handing his wand over. He was ready for the sensation this time, half dreading it, in fact; despite the unrelenting pleasure of it, he felt exposed in front of Severus whenever it happened. Remus endured it without gasping or smiling sappily down at the man – he mentally awarded himself points and this time he noticed Severus’ reaction; his expression relaxed slightly, the tight frown easing. He even glanced up at Remus and nodded his thanks.

Severus performed a complicated sequence of movements with the wand and the door opened with a melodic sigh. He regarded the door as if it were a cobra preparing to strike. “It’s never done that before,” he stated with deep suspicion.

“Different wand,” Remus pointed out, moving to step into the house.

“Wait!”

“What?” Remus had one foot in the threshold, his body held awkwardly frozen. “What is it?” he repeated. He heard Severus exhale noisily.

“Step back. Now.”

He knew better than to argue. Carefully he pulled his foot back from the doorway and stepped back behind the wheelchair.

“And you call yourself a Dark Arts scholar,” Severus sniped at him as he pushed the chair into the doorway and performed another series of complicated wand swishes. Remus followed only half of the movements – he suspected the other half had been designed by Severus himself.

“Enter,” Severus called back as he rolled the chair into the house.

Remus followed Severus in, stopping when the wheelchair halted in front of him. The windows were small and allowed only small patches of light to enter the gloom of the main room. The smell of damp and neglect hit his nose like a slap. How long had the place been abandoned?

When Remus’ eyes adjusted he saw that Severus had halted in front of a wall of sombre looking oil portraits. With yet another complex wand movement the wall and its paintings altered before his eyes, assuming the shape of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with every conceivable shape and vintage of books.

“The books,” Remus observed a bit redundantly; Severus was already stroking reverent fingers across the spines of those on the nearest shelf.

“Unharmed,” Severus confirmed, “still under spells of protection, thank Merlin.”

“So, whoever took out the windows,” Remus began…

“Wasn’t from Voldemort’s camp,” Severus finished the thought.

“Vandalism.”

“Not the most salubrious of neighbourhoods,” Severus agreed.

“But why didn’t the Aurors come and take possession of… your possessions?” Remus wondered aloud.

“I doubt they would have bothered engaging with the wards after the first couple of casualties.” Severus rolled the chair across the room, gazing up at the shelves. “Even if they had managed to get in, they wouldn’t have seen a single book. This lot were spelled to disintegrate in the presence of anyone not in my presence.”

Harry came in through the open door.

“Everything alright?” the boy asked them, turning in a slow circle. “That’s a lot of books,” he said in awestruck tones.

“It certainly is,” Remus confirmed. “Maybe you could help Severus shrink them down.”

“All of them?”

“Ah…”

He looked over at Severus who had been taking a selection of books from the shelves and was holding them in the manner of a dog guarding his precious bones. He looked up at Remus and shrugged slightly. “I can prioritise which books are to go first. We could always come back for the rest at another time,” the man suggested.

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Remus agreed. “I’ll just go upstairs and see what I can find in the way of clothes and the like, shall I?”

But Severus was already pointing to a book out of his reach and Harry was obligingly taking it down for him. He heard Ron’s awed exclamation of “Wow! That’s a lot of books!” and Harry’s uninhibited laugh in response. Remus smiled at the infectious sound but quickly lost his upbeat mood. The place was oppressive in its darkness, not the almost welcoming darkness of Hogwarts dungeons where Severus had lived for so long. He wondered whether Severus noticed the difference.

As Remus climbed the staircase it seemed like the walls were crowding in around him. He came to a doorway and the hair on his neck stood straight up as he walked into the bedroom. There was a single bed with an uncovered mattress and a faded and ripped poster of the Sex Pistols on the wall. 

Remus couldn’t stand still. He kept checking over his shoulder; the sensation of someone watching him was almost overpowering, someone with a large, bloody piece of wood and a crazed, furious expression. Remus shuddered and started to reach for his wand only to realise that Severus still had it.

“Damn.”

This was Severus’ room as a child, he was sure of it. But what had happened here? He backed out of the room knowing that Severus was not likely to have used it in the last twenty years, since he knew that the man’s parents had been gone that long at least. Remus moved along the hallway to the next room. It was sparsely furnished with a double bed and a wardrobe. Remus checked another room, this one had more furniture: another large bed, a wardrobe, a dressing table, and two matching bedside tables. Everything in the third room was covered in dust and even Severus’ absence could not account for the thickness of it. He returned to the second room, the one that looked unused.

_This is where you’ve been sleeping, Severus._

He no longer believed that the man had lived here – he’d just spent some nights sleeping under this roof. He opened the wardrobe and found some black robes hanging patiently on the rail. Further investigation yielded a small collection of socks, underwear, trousers and shirts. He also found a worn pair of boots at the bottom of the wardrobe and stood staring at them, willing his heart to unclench. He bent and picked them up, rubbing the worn leather between his fingers and picking up Severus’ faded scent. He wondered at his urge to take them. It wasn’t as if Severus was going to need them after all. And what would Severus say if he saw him carrying them? But the impulse would not be ignored and he took a pillowcase off the bed, quickly shoved the boots into it, and then packed the clothes on top.

He surveyed the room one more time, but there was nothing more to be seen, nothing that needed to be saved. It seemed that the only belongings Severus possessed that were worth anything were either at Hogwarts in the form of potions and ingredients, or contained in his cherished book collection. He knew that Minerva had preserved the potions carefully, pending a thorough inventory, so that only left packing up Severus’ books and to all intents and purposes the man would be moved out. Remus was well used to living with few belongings, ready to pick up and move at a moment’s notice, but even he had possessed some photos, some mementos from his past – gifts from friends that he would never want to part with. Severus had nothing like that here in his room.

Remus suspected that the man’s life had been lived with single-minded purpose; the defeat of the Dark Lord. Even his teaching career had been subsumed by that goal. Severus hadn’t been a bad teacher, he mused as he walked back down the stairs, just a terrifying one. He remembered, with a surprising rush of pleasure, Severus sweeping about the dungeons of Hogwarts, scattering squeaking children in his wake. It was perverse to consider that time as containing happy memories, but there it was; a smile lifted the edges of Remus mouth.

He was on the bottom step when he heard the shriek.

He hurtled in the direction of the sitting room, again reaching for his absent wand – but Severus had it, he could defend himself, couldn’t he? Remus passed through the doorway, ready to duck and roll, headed straight for the wheelchair. But the wheelchair was spinning around and Severus had the wand trained–

–on Ron, who was still yelling himself hoarse and trying to pull his arm out of–

–a book?

Hermione had her wand pointed at the redhead, but she looked completely dumbfounded and hadn’t cast any spells. She was yelling to Severus to tell her what to do, and he was yelling at her to move out of the way. Remus could help here.

“Hermione, move away, now!” he ordered, using his teacher’s voice. She stepped back reflexively, giving Severus a clear shot at the book attached to Ron’s arm. He fired off a spell at the same moment that Harry pelted through the door straight into Remus’ back, sending them both crashing to the floor.

It took some moments for Remus to untangle his limbs from Harry’s and get his wind back (he’d broken Harry’s fall nicely), by which time Ron was seated on the dusty sofa, looking pale and holding a glass of brandy. Hermione sat beside him with the offending book securely tied with magical rope.

Remus looked across at Severus and found a faint smile on the man’s face.

“It hardly seems possible that you lot managed to defeat Voldemort. If it hadn’t been for me I’m quite sure we would be living in a pure-blooded dictatorship right now.”

Remus sat up, wincing as his bruised ribs twinged. He saw that one pile of books had already been shrunk for transport and was tucked in an aging grocery box. Another pile that hadn’t yet been spelled down in size was teetering precariously near the old sofa. Those must have been the ones that Ron had been working on. Harry was holding a hand out to help him to his feet.

“Sorry about that, Remus.”

“Don’t worry,” Remus reassured the boy, “no permanent damage done.”

“For future reference and your continued existence,” Severus addressed a still pale Ron, “it’s a Dark Arts library,” he stressed the words sarcastically, “please check the books for curses before opening them,” he finished with a glare.

Normally Remus would have expected some kind of retort, Ron being the Weasley that he is, but the redhead was unexpectedly quiet, giving Severus a nod of acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione added.

“Any chance of tea, Severus?” Remus inquired, feeling a deep and sudden urge for a sit down and a drink.

“Ask the mice,” Severus replied in a far off voice. He used Remus’ wand to pull down some of the books on the higher shelves, obviously giving up on help from any of the more able-bodied. Remus thought Severus was amassing quite a large collection, considering these were only the books that deserved first priority for transport. Organising the storage of them once they were back home would keep Severus busy for days, but that was all to the good, he thought. Severus needed work to recover – he had had never been a creature of leisure.

“Come on, Harry,” Remus gestured at the doorway, “you can fight off the vermin while I make a pot.”

“Yeah, sure,” the boy smiled and followed him to the kitchen.

As Remus was batting away the cobwebs and searching for the kettle, he asked, “Harry, why are you working for the Ministry? Doing that kind of work for the Minister, it has to cost you too dearly – more than he’s compensating you, I’m certain.”

Instead of answering him right away, Harry looked down and started to wrestle with the ancient cooker’s knobs, trying to get a burner working. Finally, a ring of blue flame shot from the jets.

“I’m doing it for you,” the boy eventually replied, scuffing worn boots through the accumulated dirt on the floor.

“What?” The floor seemed to spin slowly under Remus’ feet and he noted absently that there were indeed mice in the kitchen. There was tiny whiskered snout protruding from the small space beside the oven.

“I do it so that I can change things for you. Eventually. Working from the inside, right?”

“Harry–”

But really, what could he say to that?

 

~~~^~~~

 

Remus sipped at the mug of tea, hoping for a respite from the whirling mess that his mind had become. He looked around the room. There wasn’t much left to do now, Hermione had taken the first load of books back to his flat and the next two loads were almost shrunk and packed. Severus, Harry and Ron were working quite amicably and that was yet another weirdness that contributed to Remus’ sense of not really being on the same planet.

“Are these ready to go?”

Harry’s voice jolted Remus out of his disaffected reverie. Harry was pointing at a large box with a peeling label on it that might have said potatoes.

“Yes. These will be as well in a moment,” Severus replied.

“Right. I’ll go ahead then. See you at the flat, Ron.”

The redhead gave a short wave and Harry _Disapparated_ with a subdued bang. Remus got to his feet and collected the used mugs from various points in the room.

“I hardly think you need to bother yourself with that,” Severus observed dryly.

“No need to make it any worse than it already is in here,” Remus countered, “particularly if we are planning to return.”

Severus made no response beyond a slight curl of the lip before he turned back to the remaining six books and watched as Ron shrank them.

From the kitchen Remus heard Ron say a goodbye before he _Disapparated_ out with the last box. He checked his watch while the tea mugs were washing, having retrieved his wand for the purpose. He felt twitchy and his skin itched. Or was it his mind that itched? He cancelled the washing spell on the dish mop and starting scrubbing out the kettle by hand, desperate for some physical outlet for his unsettled nerves.

“Are you finished in there yet?” Severus called.

Remus rinsed the kettle out and left the mugs draining.

“Yes. It’s time to leave now. I need to be at work soon,” he replied as he walked back to the sitting room. He took a worn glove from his pocket and held it out to the man. Acting entirely on impulse he picked up the dusty framed picture – the only one he’d seen in the entire house – from the sideboard next to his hip, seeing Severus frown a second before they were pulled home by the portkey.


	10. Cooking the Books

Remus blinked as he groped for his house keys. There was no helping the constant slight swaying of his body; he was bone tired. He hadn’t been this tired since the war. Instead of catching a nap yesterday he’d been rummaging through Severus’ former home and then rearranging what little furniture he had to accommodate Severus’ books.

Severus had been done in by teatime. They had both eaten early before Remus went to work his night shift, and Severus’ hands had been shaking so badly that Remus wasn’t surprised when he’d retired straight after dinner. He’d been almost certain that Severus would sleep the night through and not be anxious in his absence, so he’d been surprised to have the phone handed over to him by his offsider at about 2am.

He replayed the conversation from four hours ago in his mind while he grappled with the task of unlocking his front door.

_“Bloke asking for you. Won’t say his name.”_

_Since no one else of his acquaintance had his number, he knew who it was without asking._

_“Hello, Severus. I’m sorry you woke up – I thought you’d still be sound asleep when I got home, it was such a long day,” he spoke evenly into the receiver. There was no response but the breathing he could hear seemed to slow down slightly._

_“It’s another thrilling night, I’m excited to say; I found a piece of old chewing gum under the desk here and I’ve been fully occupied for the past two hours using it to sculpt a rather decent copy of Michelangelo’s Pieta.”_

_There was a soft snort, almost a laugh, and after a few more even paced breaths, the phone disconnected. He smiled at the receiver as he replaced it on the desk._

Remus finally got the key to properly align with the lock and almost fell through the door with relief. Home!

“Good morning,” his houseguest said in greeting.

“It’ll be even better when I’m horizontal,” Remus responded quickly before he lost the power of speech to an enormous yawn.

“You overdid it yesterday; you should have rested before going to work,” Severus said in mild rebuke.

“I’m okay, just need sleep, then I’ll be fine. Is that tea?” Remus asked, finally registering Severus’ hand holding a large, chipped mug. Wordlessly, Severus held it out to him then reversed the wheelchair back into the kitchen – the room where most of their important conversations seemed to take place.

“Did you get back to sleep?” Remus asked around another jaw-cracking yawn.

“Eventually. How did your sculpture turn out?”

Unbelievable. The man was actually showing genuine amusement. There, the corner of his mouth on that side – a full two millimetres higher.

“Protester smashed it to make a statement,” Remus supplied.

“Ah. Politics.” Severus nodded in sage understanding.

Remus smiled and finished his mug of tea. “Right, I’m off for a kip,” he said, rising from the kitchen chair.

“I’ll wake you at lunchtime,” Severus said, twirling the wheelchair neatly out of the kitchen.

Remus realised his enchanted flying chair must have run out of juice.

 _Or maybe he prefers a device without such a personal link to me_ , he mused as he stripped off boots and trousers. He fell backwards onto the bed, deciding that removing his uniform shirt and tie was going to be far too much trouble.

He heard himself snoring before he’d even lost consciousness.

 

~~~^~~~

 

The smell woke him. It was a nauseating blend of aged socks, doxy droppings, and vomit. He blinked and stumbled off the bed.

“Severus!” he called, walking into the doorframe. “Ouch.”

“I was on my way to wake you,” Severus said, wheeling into view.

He wasn’t fully awake, and he blamed that fact later for what he said next.

“Why are you still using that blasted thing anyway?”

“What?”

“That fucking wheelchair!”

“Would you rather I crawl?” Severus asked dryly.

And that really should have set the alarm bells ringing, but Remus was tired, and confused, and off balance in a multitude of ways.

“I want you… t-to… I w-would rather,” he stuttered and fell silent, no longer knowing what he was saying, and oddly suspicious of the first three words he’d uttered.

“Make up your bloody mind, Lupin,” Severus hissed and retreated down the hallway after a neat, wheeled pirouette. “I made lunch,” Severus added over his shoulder.

“You’ve made the Wolfsbane potion!” he shouted, suddenly remembering the real reason for his uneasiness. He hurried after Severus, entering a kitchen filled with noxious fumes. “Why are you doing this? _How_ are you doing this?” he demanded.

“Miss Granger was kind enough to procure the ingredients for me once I explained my plight to her. She delivered them this morning while you were asleep,” came the even reply.

“But, you need a wand to brew,” Remus began, and then groaned when he realised that Severus still had his wand from yesterday. He always left it at home when he was at work. As if to illustrate this fact Severus turned to him and twirled the item in his fingers; long, dexterous, taunting fingers.

“Bastard,” Remus snarled, but the heat was going out of him.

“I don’t understand why you’re so vexed, Lupin – I’m doing this for you,” Severus commented.

The phrasing echoed Harry’s from the day before so perfectly that Remus wondered whether Severus had overheard their conversation somehow.

Severus had turned back to the stove, which held Remus’ large stockpot, now belching a cloud of green smoke.

_I wonder if that will set off the smoke alarm?_

“The thing is,” Remus coughed and continued, “you didn’t ask me first. And that really annoys the hell out of me.” His eyes watered, and his nose was starting to leak. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your time and effort, really I do!” He hacked up a large gobbit of something and groped unsuccessfully for the handkerchief in his trouser pocket, and thus realised that he’d been standing in the kitchen in a very sad pair of boxers, an equally sad pair of socks, and his shirt and tie.

Severus peered through the murk at him. “You’d better leave the room – it’s a not in a benign state for werewolves right now. I left sandwiches in the sitting room with a pot of tea.”

Remus nodded and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. He hacked and teared and sniffed over the hand basin for a few minutes and then made his way to the promised lunch; he was ravenous and not even the Wolfsbane brewing in his house could dispel his appetite.

He settled in on the sofa with the plate of sandwiches on his lap and a mug of tea in one hand. In a very short time he had emptied both, and he tipped his head back against the sofa cushion with a sigh of satisfaction. He wondered if Hermione’s so-called potions supplies had included the sliced roast beef he’d just eaten, because he certainly didn’t remember buying it. Then he frowned, wondering how Severus had paid for all the supplies, with or without roast beef. Like a proverbial Muggle light bulb, the answer flared to life in his mind. He opened his eyes and laughed quietly.

The books, the bloody books!

The bloody man had either sold some via Hermione, or he’d stashed some well-hidden galleons within them. This explanation also covered the strangely protective attitude that Severus had displayed for the very first books he’d retrieved. Remus was still smiling gently when Severus joined him in the sitting room.

Severus stopped the wheelchair abruptly at the doorway. “What are you grinning about?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Can’t I simply be in a good mood?” Remus responded mildly.

An elegantly arched eyebrow greeted that explanation. Severus wheeled slowly towards the armchair and he heaved himself awkwardly onto it. Remus watched him as the tension seemed to flow out of his frame and he heaved a great sigh.

“How goes the potion then?” Remus ventured to ask.

“Not my best, but then the equipment is somewhat primitive,” Severus sniffed, eyes closed and head resting against the high back of the chair. “However, it will serve adequately.”

Remus smiled, enjoying the pissy tone that he’d missed for so long. _Merlin, how could I have missed such an annoying, conceited fuckup? One of life’s mysteries to be sure._

“You’re staring at me.”

Just how Severus could tell he’d been doing that when his own eyes had been closed… Well, it was unnerving.

“You look tired.” It was an indirect but honest response. Severus’ face looked pale and drawn. More pale and drawn than he had this morning at any rate.

“I ache.”

“You’re out of practice.”

“I am indeed.”

“And you have the added physical challenge of doing your potion making from a reduced height.”

It was a pointed observation. Remus held his breath waiting for Severus’ reaction. The dark eyes opened and regarded him coolly.

“Why didn’t you use my levitating chair, it would have been easier.”

“You must know something about dependence on others by now, Lupin.”

Remus twitched slightly. “Yes, you have me there, Severus.”

He looked Severus over closely; he would be in danger of falling asleep if he stayed in the chair any longer.

“Come to the bedroom,” he said softly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was suggesting that you go to the bedroom and lie down rather than get a bad neck falling asleep where you are, that’s all!”

“I thought that was rather direct for you,” Severus muttered. Heaving another sigh, he made to lift himself back onto the wheelchair.

“Let me help,” Remus said, and rising from the sofa he placed a hand under Severus’ bottom then lifted and swivelled until he had Severus safely seated once more. 

“The potion needs to stay on low heat until six o’clock. I suggest opening a window,” Severus said before turning the wheelchair quickly and heading out of the room.

“Right.” It was on the tip of his Remus’ to ask Severus if he needed any help, but Severus had avoided his gaze and his suggestion about the window was as good as a dismissal. Was he embarrassed, or did he find Remus’ touch repulsive?

Remus sighed and went to set the kitchen timer for the potion. Wandering back into the sitting room he couldn’t decide what to do. He felt a lingering fatigue and would have gone back to bed if Severus hadn’t beat him to it. If he went to bed now he would be crowding Severus – he wanted him to feel comfortable and that meant giving him space when he needed it.

Remus’ gaze fell on the small picture he had picked up from Spinner’s End; it showed a very young Severus in a much too formal pose, along with a striking dark-haired woman and a thickset older man. The woman stared coldly out of the frame at him, disapproval more than evident on her face. The man seemed unable to focus on him, but he bore an air of general belligerence. The small Severus looked grave and serious, and now and again his eyes flicked towards his father with a trace of fear.

His own childhood had of course been less than ideal, but he couldn’t help the twinge in his chest at the thought of what Severus must have experienced as a child of those two people. He fingered the frame lightly. It seemed strange that Severus had allowed him to place the picture on the mantle, hadn’t even voiced an objection to its presence or to Remus’ pilfering of the picture from his home. Remus hadn’t examined his own actions at all, he just knew that he wanted Severus to feel at home here, and home to him meant having pictures of those he cared about around him. Severus might not have cared overmuch for his parents, but in the absence of anything else, their portrait would serve for now.

Remus turned away from the mantle, yawning and swaying slightly on his feet. He really needed a nap.

“The sofa it is then,” he murmured to himself then stretched out along its length, feet dangling. And at least this time he remembered to take off his tie.

 

~~~^~~~

 

Remus smiled. The heat from the late afternoon sun was on his face, the deep orange glowing through his eyelids. Someone was telling him to wake up, but he just smiled in the direction of the voice. He heard a deep, gentle laugh and his hammock swung wildly for moment then a warm, solid weight settled on top of his body. This time he knew beyond any doubt that it was male.

He clutched the thinly muscled buttocks greedily, pulling the man’s groin tightly against his own, sighing at the sensation. A wide, firm mouth found his; teeth rasped delicately against his bottom lip. He opened his mouth to a warm, questing tongue that tasted of whiskey. Long moments of languid kissing followed and finally he took a deep breath and said _I love you._

He opened his eyes…

“How on Earth can you sleep so deeply on that thing?”

…and found a pair of black eyes staring intently at him.

“Wuh?”

“Eloquence is not an affliction you ever have to fear, Lupin.”

Remus struggled to an upright position, encountering various cricks and twinges as he did so; no, the sofa was not a good place to sleep.

“I was tired,” he explained feebly, rubbing a hand over his face and wondering where his beautiful, fading vision had gone. He ached inside as much as outside with the loss of his phantom lover; that deep-voiced, sexy, sinewy, _knowing_ lover.

He snatched his hand down and stared at Severus, who was wheeling out of the room. _No!_

“I’m making a pot of tea. What’s for dinner?”

“Wolfsbane potion, I thought,” Remus muttered, his head swimming with realisation. _For Merlin’s sake I can’t let him suspect what I’ve been dreaming about,_ he thought with a touch of panic.

He followed Severus into the kitchen where the potion was still on the hotplate in a barely perceptible simmer. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly fragrant with essence of fresh summer flowers but it was manageable enough, and no doubt Severus didn’t even notice the smell after some of the toxic mixtures he’d brewed over the years.

Remus dodged around Severus and took two cups from the dish rack, then snagged the milk from the fridge on his way to the table. On reflection he decided sugar would be a necessary evil – he still felt tired and sluggish. He got the packet down from the cupboard and left it with the other supplies.

“I’ll just have a quick shower while the tea’s brewing,” he announced. He’d now been wearing the same clothes for twenty-four hours and he could smell himself.

Severus grunted his acknowledgement and poured water from the kettle into the large teapot.

When Remus had the shower beating down on his body he allowed himself to remember his dream in more detail. Details that had been obscured were now crystal clear, and he could no longer deny the truth. His long dormant attraction to men had resurfaced, and the object of his desire was Severus Snape.

 _But he’s only been here a week!_ he protested to himself. _And why the sudden attraction after all these years?_

He’d always been a little fascinated with Severus Snape, but the transformation from mild interest to distinctly erotic attraction came as a shock. Though, perhaps not an unwelcome one. His eyes lost their focus as he envisioned a possible future with Severus as his lover. Though Severus seemed to care to some extent about Remus, could Severus be happy with another man?

_He’s vulnerable right now – not himself, still insecure. It will need time before I even ask him about it._

This observation – so obvious and undeniable – ended Remus’ inner argument. He felt an enormous sense of relief tempered with a touch of frustration. The relief came from the thought that he wouldn’t have to find a way to approach Severus for now, that would be a job undertaken much later. As for the frustration, well, looking down he could see immediate evidence of just what kind of frustration he was suffering from. He sighed and gripped it in one sudsy hand – he’d better hurry or the tea would be cold.


	11. Ferocious

Two days later saw Remus once more subject to the whim of his curse and the brightness of the full moon. He had felt its relentless pull on his body all day until he’d finally decided to await the change in the sitting room. Remus had had to strip in front of Severus when he’d voiced a desire to see the Change under the Wolfsbane potion. He supposed Severus held some lingering doubt that his potion-making skills were intact after his recent experiences. Remus had no such doubts and had no concerns for Severus’ safety, nonetheless he insisted that the man have his wand at the ready during his transformation – it was more for Severus’ comfort than anything else.

He panted through another wrenching mutation, peripherally aware of Severus watching from the open doorway. Another mutation shook him and he dropped to his knees and elbows… haunches? He howled with the pain of it, still aware enough of Severus to note his wand being used to cast a silencing charm, not that Remus cared in the slightest if anyone heard him right now.

He’d been worried about being naked in front of Severus, but fortunately his usual case of full moon nerves had precluded any erotic thoughts and he’d been mercifully free of any signs of interest.

He fell to his side with the next morphing wrench of muscle and bone, whimpering and thrashing his way through it, desperately hanging on to his mind – his identity. _I am Remus, not Moony! I’m a wizard! Wizard, wizard, WIZARD!_

The panting was him, the tongue lolling with exhaustion was his. Moony was held in check for now; the potion had done its work. He angled his head around until he could see Severus – he could already smell him, salty-sour fear overlaid with… something. Remus had smelt it before, when he’d run with the pack during the recent war, but he would have to be Moony to understand its message and he wasn’t going to be Moony tonight.

“Lupin.”

Severus rolled the chair closer and Remus wagged his tail in greeting, still too shattered to rise. He watched Severus’ grip on his wand relax.

“Do you need anything?”

Remus knew Severus was shaken by watching the Change; nothing else would have prompted him to ask such a stupid question. A moment later he saw Severus register that fact.

“Ah. Quite.”

Remus wuffed softly in amusement. Severus turned and lit the fire with an elegant wave of Remus’ wand.

Remus dragged himself upright and stepped over to lean his head gently against Severus’ hand. His skin still exuded a salty smell, but without the same level of sour fear. He licked the back of Severus’ hand, aghast at his own temerity.

“I’ll thank you not to bite me, Lupin.”

He wuffed again and wagged his tail slowly.

“I’ll leave you to your rest then. I’ll bring some tea in the morning.”

Severus wheeled over to place the wand on the coffee table. “You may need that to restart the fire after you change back again. Goodnight, Lupin.”

Seeing an opportunity in his altered form that would not normally be afforded him, he leant his front paws on the side of the wheelchair and licked Severus’ cheek.

“Lupin!” Severus recoiled, bringing a hand up to wipe at his face. “I hope you aren’t expecting me to return the gesture.”

Severus frowned at him, but he could see a slight quirk on one side of his mouth. He let his tongue loll out and tipped his head to the side as if considering.

"I think not, Lupin."

Severus backed the wheelchair to the door, farewelling him with–

“May you dream of incessant tail-chasing! I shall see you in the morning.”

He wagged his tail in response and padded back to the fire to bask in the warmth. The door closed behind Severus. He closed his eyes and relaxed, savouring the taste in his mouth.

 

~~~^~~~

 

Remus was deep into his dream of running in endless circles – damn Severus for referring to chasing tails – when a noise roused him. He blinked and was staring into the fire, wondering why he was suddenly awake, when he heard the noise again. And again. The sounds were muted, but unmistakable to Remus’ senses; they were the sounds of Apparation – stealthy Apparation. It required two people, one to do side-along Apparating and another to muffle the process. Who would be visiting at this hour? He squinted at the clock on the wall, but its subtleties were lost to him in this form. He wondered if it was Harry needing some assistance. But Harry wouldn’t come on the night of the full moon, and certainly not with others; he would expect Remus to be locked securely in the cellar, as he had been every other night until this Change. Anybody that knew him would know he normally spent the full moon under lock and key. Even Hermione, Severus’ supplier for the potion’s ingredients, would not have believed him capable of brewing the Wolfsbane Potion in time for this month’s full moon.

Stealth Apparition was commonly used by Magical Law Enforcement. It was a particular favourite in the Auror arsenal. A dawning realisation swept over Remus.

He heard the front door opening – whoever they were they had no concern about entering the house uninvited. Remus had a brief flash of guilt at the realisation that he really should have added sturdier wards after Severus came to stay.

In his wolf form the hairs standing up on the back of his neck became hackles rising, accompanied by a low, almost inaudible, growl. It rolled through his chest cavity like the vibration from an approaching train on the Underground and it galvanised him in a way abstract thought simply couldn’t.

Uninvited guests in the dead of night could only be a bad thing. 

He threw himself against the door. It was solid and so was he; they met with a mighty shake and shudder, but, remarkably, no noise – Severus’ earlier silencing charm on the room still held. Remus backed up and charged again, but the door held firm. Suddenly Remus could hear shouting – the silencing charm only went in one direction. 

Remus backed up for another charge against the door even though he knew it was futile – the wood was simply too thick to smash with his body – and found himself staring at the door handle. Could he gain enough leverage with his paws? He reared up and hung his paws around the handle and squeezing tightly he leant his weight to one side, feeling the simple bolt turning. Just a bit further…

He felt the click vibrate along his legs and squeezing the handle even harder he tipped his weight quickly backwards, pulling the door inwards before he dropped down to all fours. The shouting had continued during his escape from the lounge, but at the moment the intruders appeared to be directing their anger more at each other than at Severus. Remus heard outraged swearing and someone hitting a wall – he hoped it wasn’t Severus: or should he hope that it was, proof that they hadn’t already killed him?

Remus sped along the hallway as quietly as he could. He paused before he reached the bedroom. The door was open and he could see the backs of four cloaked figures just past the threshold. Someone was on the ground at their feet but it wasn’t Severus – it was one of the attackers, swathed in a hooded cloak the same as his compatriots.

Remus had counted three Apparations – that made at least six attackers, maybe more that he hadn’t heard before waking, so that meant at least one more of them further in the room out of sight.

They obviously had no idea that he was at large in the house, since none of them were facing the doorway. Or maybe they were just too busy arguing.

“You idiot! We can’t kill him here!”

“I know that! Doesn’t stop us from having a little fun before we leave, does it?” the man on the floor protested. “The werewolf’s snug and tight in the cellar – nothing to stop us is there?”

The voice was vaguely familiar. Remus tilted his snout and sniffed at the various scents coming from the group – he could taste something wrong in the air, something that offended his senses – then he heard low, thready moan from inside the room. _Severus!_ Remus panted in relief.

Remus fought to keep his heart from trip-hammering, irrationally afraid that their attackers would hear it thudding as he lurked in the hallway.

“He’s right, Mason, and you’re well out of order hexing him! He’s one of us, for Merlin’s sake!” came another voice.

Remus shifted from paw to paw, anxious and unsure what he could do to get Severus out the clutches of these Aurors. Aurors that he now knew had no interest in the due process of wizarding law – they were on a vendetta against Severus. He wished desperately for a hand to hold a wand; the wand that was doing no good at all in the sitting room.

If he’d had a hand he would have smacked his head.

Turning, he loped down the hall, careful to keep his claws muffled on the worn runner, and, darting into the sitting room, gently picked up his wand in his teeth. As a plan it was reckless, foolhardy, and no doubt doomed to fail – and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try it.

He charged into the room, bounding on to the bed, paying no mind to the shouts of fear and surprise, and there he saw Severus, pale and sweaty, wrists magically bound, staring at him with wide eyes.

Not at him, at the wizard who was taking aim with a wand from behind him – something Remus realised as the hex hit his back. He shook with the force of it, squeezed the effects out of his bones by dint of sheer necessity, and dropped his wand into Severus’ clawing right hand.

Now, he would deal with these damned shites.

He bared his teeth and growled for all he was worth – let the bastards think he was as feral as the late, unlamented Fenrir Greyback.

The wizard that had hexed him, wand still raised, decided that caution was the better part of valour, and Disapparated with a crack, stealth long forgotten. The others held their ground and the curses came thick and fast, he leaped into them as often as he could – a freezing hex that he snapped off in crackling shards, an immobilising hex, an attempt to burn him alive with _incendio_ – protecting Severus and buying him time to get free and defend himself. Eventually there was nothing else he could do but bite the Auror who got too close to Severus. The man had used another Auror’s attack to distract Remus momentarily, and he was in the process of firing a curse at Severus when Remus’ teeth found his neck.

Blood.

He’d hit the man’s jugular.

So sweet he wanted to vomit. The blood made everything better – the icicles that still spiked through his fur melted in a hot flood of pleasure and Moony howled behind his eyes, blinding him to anything else in the room.

_No, you damned monster! Stay back!_

He heard Severus throwing curses and hexes behind him as if from a great distance away, then–

“Remus! They’re gone,” Severus panted from the bed.

It was over.

Remus opened his jaws, the Auror’s blood dripped from his muzzle. He was dead, dying, it didn’t matter much which. With a werewolf bite you either lived or died, no amount of intervention was going to affect the outcome.

Remus sniffed. It wasn’t anyone he knew. He shook his fur from snout to tail-tip, then looked at Severus. He was dripping sour sweat and wild-eyed, but he was safe. He was alive, and that was all that mattered to Remus.

He turned to the bed giving no more thought to the Auror on the floor. His compatriots had apparently fled under Severus’ onslaught. He grinned up at him. _We’re a good team, Severus._

Severus huffed a laugh, sounding more like he was about to pass out than truly amused. He fell silent, then laughed again a little louder. Remus watched him in concerned relief.

“Vivisecto!”

The world tipped crazily sideways. 

“Remus!”

He’d only ever heard Severus shriek once before. He couldn’t see – why couldn’t he see? He whined in panic, but his throat flooded and it became a gurgle – he was choking on his own blood. Feeling his consciousness slipping away was nothing new to Remus, but this time he knew he might not awaken. He felt sorry for Severus, knew that Severus would feel guilty over Remus’ death.

He had just enough time to wish that he had told Severus… everything.


	12. Vital Signs

Remus woke up in a bed. It was his bed by the feel of it, but with some subtle difference. After a few fuzzy seconds of trying to figure out what was different, he decided that it wasn’t really worth worrying about it and fell asleep.

He woke up again. This time he opened his eyes – or at least, he opened one eye; the other one wasn’t obeying him. The light was dim and he could just make out the shape of someone in a chair nearby.

He said, “Severus?”

The shape stirred and resolved itself into Harry.

“You’re awake.”

Harry’s hand touched his shoulder briefly, a barely-there touch that might be used to stroke fine china.

 _Right. The Auror I left for dead cursed me._ Remus had turned his back on a foe before checking that he was incapacitated: a tactical oversight that could have cost him his life.

_I must be a mess… Fuck! Severus!_

“Where’s Severus?” Remus rasped out, fighting a surge of panic.

“He’s safe, Remus. He’s fine. You don’t have to worry about him anymore,” Harry replied.

Remus could tell that Harry wasn’t exactly lying, but there was something distinctly off about his answer. His mind was buzzing with questions, but first–

“I’m thirsty,” he rasped.

“I’ll get you a drink. Just a minute,” Harry said before walking out of the room.

Idly Remus peered around at the dim room. He was in his bed, his original version of the bed, the two halves reunited once more. He wondered if his transfiguration had failed for some reason, but he abandoned further speculation when Harry came back into the room, trailing an entourage of people, one of whom bustled to his side and started waving a wand over his supine form.

“Poppy? What are you..?” he began. Then Harry held out a glass of water with a straw and he concentrated on slaking his thirst.

“I came as soon as I could, Remus dear. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more for you,” she answered. “You’ve healed well in any case. That metabolism is good for something, hm?” She smiled sadly at him.

He was starting to get uneasy. Yes, he’d been injured, but why did everyone look as though someone had died?

“Where’s Severus?” he asked with renewed suspicion. He reached up to bat away the glass Harry was holding near his mouth, but his hand never connected.

His hand…

His hand wasn’t there anymore.

Remus stared dumbfounded at the space where his right hand used to be. The people around his bedside fell silent.

“Remus, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save your hand. Severus said that it was completely amputated while you were changed. When the moon set and you assumed your human form, it didn’t change with you.”

It might have been Poppy speaking, but Remus wasn’t really listening. He had no hand. Slowly, a new horror took root in his mind.

“Severus!” he shouted, or tried to – it was more of a strangled screech.

“I’m right here, you uncouth beast.”

His eyes were pitched at the wrong level, and so he hadn’t observed Severus’ entry.

“Severus?”

Severus strode over to the chair recently vacated by Harry and sat down gracefully.

“I’m quite all right, as you can see. Unlike your foolhardy self,” Severus commented, sounding in every way like Remus’ cherished memories of Snape before his imprisonment.

Remus stared down at Severus’ legs, or rather the outline of them showing beneath the fabric of his dark robes.

“How?” He seemed incapable of complete sentences.

“A somewhat Dark spell, I’m afraid – I used the blood from your alternate form,” Severus supplied.

“My blood. Werewolf blood.”

“Yes, I was in rather a hurry. You were bleeding out on the floor and I needed to get to the floo to summon help. Necessity, as the Muggles say, is the mother of invention.”

“You used a Dark spell to counter a Dark curse. Why didn’t we think of that earlier?” Remus wondered aloud.

Severus smirked at him. “I must have been influenced by the company of too many Gryffindors; I fear I rather forgot my forte.”

“You should get some more sleep now, Remus,” Poppy interrupted, gazing at her wand with a frown, “Your temperature has just started to rise and I think all this talking is exhausting you.”

Remus was tired, but he was reluctant to cut short his conversation with Severus. He felt an elation that he feared might be short-lived. The tall form of Kingsley Shacklebolt loomed in the doorway, and the smile sent in Remus’ direction looked forced. Remus knew that he might yet be imprisoned for attacking the Auror who had struck him down. Remus was a werewolf, and self-defence was no defence when a human had been bitten.

“She’s right of course. You should get some more rest,” Severus said. He touched his shoulder, a firm press rather than the timid gesture that Harry had made.

“Is he alive?”

Severus seemed to follow Remus’ uneven train of thought without any trouble.

“Your attacker has expired. Which is better than the coward deserved, in my opinion,” he replied, his jaw tense.

So, Remus would be charged with murder, not Turning. It was hard to know whether that would be any advantage legally. Remus watched as Poppy poured potion into goblet on the side table.

“Will you be staying on?” he asked with some anxiety. Now that Severus was mobile and independent of Remus there was nothing to keep him from leaving. Poppy leaned over and tucked a hand under his shoulders, tipping the goblet towards his mouth. Remus wrinkled his nose at the smell but dutifully swallowed a mouthful.

Severus hesitated then replied, “I will stay until you are recovered.” He looked over at Shacklebolt and added with a tilt on one side of his mouth, “Perhaps I can keep the real wolves from the door.”

Remus smiled back at him and nodded. Slowly the room emptied of people, and he stopped resisting the urge to close his one good eye and sink into unconsciousness.

~~~^~~~

His nose itched and sleepily he brought his hand up to scratch, bumping his stump against his chin. That woke him up. He moaned in pain – the bandage hadn’t quite cushioned the still-raw nerves where his hand had been cut off, and his painease potion had obviously worn off.

“Remus, are you okay?”

It was Harry, at his bedside again. Remus opened his eye and swivelled his head until he could see him. He realised that he hadn’t actually asked Poppy whether his other eye would ever recover vision.

_One step at a time…_

“Hello again,” Remus croaked.

“Hi,” Harry responded with a crooked smile.

Remus thought he looked a little sad, but he couldn’t spare much time to ponder it – he really had to take a piss.

“I need to get up,” he announced, lifting the bedcovers awkwardly with his left hand.

“Wait, slow down – I’ll help you.”

He wasn’t going to refuse assistance; as soon as he sat up the room whirled as if he was performing an impromptu Wronski Feint. He held his hand out and Harry grasped it firmly, helping him upright. Remus stood, gripping Harry’s shoulder convulsively while he waited for the dizziness to abate.

“Bathroom,” he finally grunted with the urgent prompting of his bladder.

“Let me get your dressing gown,” Harry said, placing Remus’ hand on the bedpost for support while he scrambled to get the gown and place it around his shoulders.

_Oh, right – no clothes._

He shrugged into the sleeves without too much trouble and, using Harry as a walking frame, made his way to the bathroom.

“Leave the door open – I’ll wait here in case you need me,” the boy said while Remus tottered inside to relieve himself.

And what a blissful relief it was. He flushed the loo and took a moment to appraise his appearance in the mirror above the basin.

“You, mate, look like you’ve been in a war,” he muttered to the ramshackle creature he saw staring back at him. Not for the first time, he was thankful for his non-responsive Muggle mirror.

“Remus?”

Harry was still waiting outside the door.

“I’m alright,” he called back. “Just going to brush my teeth while I’m in here.”

Someone – Poppy, or even Severus – had cleaned the blood off his skin, but he needed to remove all traces of the Auror’s blood and skin from his mouth himself. Just the thought of that sweet taste filling his senses made him want to retch. He filled his brush with toothpaste by holding the handle in his teeth while he squeezed the tube, but then he had to grasp it with his left hand to use it.

He’d never been the slightest bit ambidextrous, unfortunately, so he stumbled through the process with scraped gums and gouged cheeks; it would take some getting used to. He wondered if he would ever be able to tolerate a prosthetic hand. Unlikely, given that he changed form once a month. He sighed and dragged a comb through his hair. Appraising his reflection in the mirror once more, he saw very little improvement. A shave would have to wait.

“Remus?”

“Coming, Harry,” he called, steadying himself against the wall as he left the bathroom.

“Here, let me tie this up,” Harry said, snatching at the cord on his dressing gown and folding the front lapels neatly underneath as he knotted it.

“Thank you,” Remus said, smiling down at Harry’s bent head. “You’re very kind.”

That earned him muffled snort.

“It’s the least I can bloody do, Remus,” the boy said, straightening up to stare into Remus’ eyes with an intensity that surprised him. “I’ll help you back to bed now,” Harry added.

“Actually, I’ll need to phone work,” Remus said, turning for the kitchen. Although he had no idea what he was going to tell them; were there any provisions for disabled security guards? Or maybe he’d just say he was taking extended leave. For roughly the next hundred years.

“Is it cordless? I’ll bring you the phone.”

“Yes, it’s a mobile. In the kitchen.”

The floor was starting to seem an awfully long way away again. He leant against the wall while Harry peered worriedly into his face. Before Harry started asking him how he was feeling Remus asked, “Where’s Severus?”

“He’s in the kitchen making dinner.”

“Oh. I’d like to see him.”

“Then I’ll bring him and the phone,” Harry assured him. “Come on, back to bed before you fall over and I have to levitate you – I’m not that accurate and I’m sure I’d run your head into a chimney or something.”

“Yes,” Remus agreed weakly, feeling his knees starting to shake. It was the usual post-Change weakness magnified ten times. By the time he reached his bed he was mostly supported by the arm he’d slung around Harry’s neck. He lay back against the pillows with relief. He trembled from head to toe.

“I’ll see if there’s any more of the painease potion,” Harry said.

He left the room as Remus watched through his half-closed eye. He felt like shite, but he couldn’t separate the sensations enough to work out whether it was from his injuries or the Change. His head throbbed and he was thirsty beyond all measure.

His eye flew open at the cool touch on his forehead – he hadn’t been aware of dozing off.

“He has a fever. Get a large bowl of tepid water and a cloth.”

“Okay.”

“Who put this bloody great gown on you, as if I didn’t know,” Severus sniped as he manhandled Remus out of his dressing gown and laid him back against the pillows.

“Severus,” Remus breathed, feeling particularly pathetic. “Sorry about this.”

“Sorry for what; saving my arse? Apology very much not accepted, you stupid man.”

“No.” Remus frowned, trying to make sense of both what he was saying and what Severus was saying. “No,” he repeated. “I mean being ill. Taking up your time.”

“Yes, well, never mind that – I find I have a gap in my schedule at this point and can well spare you the time,” Severus responded with a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. “Now, drink this,” he instructed, placing a hand behind Remus’ head and holding a cup up to his lips.

Remus did as he was told. He was parched and the liquid was cool and refreshing. Perversely, he began to shiver.

“Cold.”

“It’s the fever. The potion will help in a moment,” Severus reassured him, stroking his fingers along Remus’ forehead.

Remus’ teeth began to chatter.

“Here you go, Professor,” Harry said as he placed a bowl on the dressing table nearby.

“Good. You can go, Potter.”

“You don’t need any help to–”

“Not at present, thank you. I will floo you later in the evening if you wish an update.”

Remus frowned. Severus’ voice sounded a little stilted. Now Remus felt unaccountably hot,.

“Yes. Yes, that would be appreciated. Thanks, Professor.”

Harry sounded equally unnatural to Remus’ ears.

“Bye, Harry,” he rasped out, turning to train his eye on the boy. “Thanks for everything.”

“Um, no problem, Remus.” The boy smiled at him. “I’ll pop by tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes. See you then,” Remus confirmed.

Harry left the room and Remus heard the front door close behind him a minute later. The whole encounter seemed odd to Remus, as if he was looking in through a window from outside – though he had to admit that he wasn’t the most reliable witness at present. Severus pulled the bedclothes away from Remus’ body saying, “You shouldn’t encourage him, you know.”

Remus gasped at the air hitting his skin. “What?”

Severus wrung out the cloth in the bowl and began sponging his legs.

“That boy is infatuated with you,” Severus elucidated.

“What?” Remus really needed to understand what had just been said… but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Severus held the cloth, dripping, over Remus’ stomach while he glared down at him. “He wants you, you cretin. He probably imagines that he’s in love with you!”

_Oh._

Severus slapped the cloth down on his stomach and glared at it.

Remus felt the urge to laugh. Harry couldn’t possibly want him! The idea was ridiculous, but… it did make sense of so many little things that had been bothering Remus about the boy. A huff of disbelief escaped him.

Severus glanced at his face and made a disgruntled sound.

Remus fought down a strong impulse to giggle hysterically. It was too much; the man Remus found desirable was complaining about the fact that someone else desired Remus.

Severus finally resumed giving him a sponge bath. Remus suddenly realised what was going to happen the very moment it started to happen – he wasn’t the quickest broom off the ground today.

“Severus,” Remus began in a strangled voice, up an octave from usual.

“Yes?”

“No more, please?” he begged, drawing his left hand over to cover his cock – the cock that had filled and lifted with more speed than it had any right to when he was so battered and unwell.

There was a long silence. The cloth had stilled on his hip – he could discern the slight pressure from Severus’ hand still holding it. He had closed his eye in embarrassment, not wanting to see the scorn and ridicule sure to be on Severus’ face.

The cloth lifted away from his hip and Remus could hear the trickle of water as Severus rinsed it in the bowl. He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when the cloth returned to his body, Severus stroking it slowly over his chest this time. Remus swallowed and opened his eye to look at the other man.

“Relax,” Severus whispered. He kept stroking Remus’ chest with the cloth, but with his other hand he grasped Remus’ and uncovered his groin.

Remus swallowed again.

“I don’t mind, Lupin.”

“I do,” Remus choked out, feeling more than vulnerable. His head still pounded though the fever seemed to be under control now. “I didn’t want you to…”

“You didn’t want me to know that you were attracted to me, is that it?”

Remus nodded as much as his headache would allow.

“And why did you not want me to know?”

Remus was having trouble remembering now… Ah, yes!

“You were injured. You weren’t yourself. And you were a guest – I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he supplied.

“I do believe,” Severus dragged the cloth over his nipples slowly, teasingly. “That all of those considerations have been rendered obsolete, have they not?”

“Oh,” Remus gasped – both at the sensation of the cloth and at the realisation that Severus was right, damn it!

“However, you aren’t well at all.” Severus lifted the cloth and dropped it into the bowl. “So perhaps this is a conversation for a later time,” he added.

_Noo!_

Remus was painfully erect.

“Please,” he begged shamelessly. His left hand sought out his cock, this time to stroke rather than hide it. It was awkward; he’d always used his right, and he grimaced at the clumsiness.

“Would you permit me?”

“God, yes!”

Severus’ hand knocked Remus’ away lightly and closed firmly over him. He stroked and squeezed, causing Remus to writhe and thrust, moaning all the while. Then Severus leaned over the bed and Remus gave a hoarse shout as he came inside Severus’ mouth.

His head pounded so hard that he wished for an axe to end his agony…

… he sweltered in his dressing gown.

“Remus? Are you okay?”

He blinked and looked up at Harry leaning over him, his face filled with concern.

“I’ve got the phone, and I brought you some more painease potion,” the boy said, holding out a cup for Remus to drink.

Wordlessly, Remus took the potion then swapped the cup for his mobile, which was in Harry’s outstretched hand.

“I thought you’d gone home, Harry,” he murmured; knowing that it had been a part of his dream, but not yet ready to accept reality.

“I wouldn’t go without saying goodbye,” the boy said with a slight frown.

Remus lay back against the pillows, unsurprised to feel a tear sliding down his cheek. He closed his eye, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“The Professor said he would bring you some soup in a minute or two,” Harry said before walking out with the empty cup.


	13. Altered State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but quietly eventful.

It was Remus’ second day of convalescence and Severus was plying him with yet more soup. At least it was a more interesting flavour this time.

“I can do this myself, you know,” Remus objected without any real heat.

“Spare me. While I’m sure you could get enough food in your mouth to sustain life, you are so uncoordinated that it would be your pyjamas that would thrive – not you.”

Remus smiled slightly. Severus had a point; it was going to be some weeks yet before Remus had any proper fine motor skills with his left hand. He opened his mouth obediently when Severus brought the spoon towards him again. Truthfully, he actually quite enjoyed having Severus feed him, but it was a guilty pleasure – he hated to be so helpless and put Severus to this much trouble. He closed his eye and sighed.

“Don’t go back to sleep yet, Lupin. You need to eat more,” Severus said, bringing the spoon towards Remus’ mouth yet again.

“I’m really not hungry anymore, Severus. I’ve had enough,” Remus protested.

Severus frowned as if he might debate the issue then said, “You’ve had enough.”

“Thank you, yes. It was very tasty.”

Severus gave a soft grunt at the compliment and placed the bowl down on the dressing table.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, why is the bed in one piece again?” Remus said.

Severus looked uncomfortable. Clearing his throat he responded, “The stain; I couldn’t remove the stain. Afterward.”

“Oh. I understand,” Remus hastened to assure him. He must have made a right mess, changing back to his human form while bleeding from the Auror’s curse, and werewolf blood was notoriously difficult to clean – the Shrieking Shack was testimony to that. There must be a rather ugly patch on the floor under his bed. It could stay there out of sight for now.

It really was a miracle he’d survived. He wondered idly what had happened to his… appendage.

“Thank you, Severus, for what you did,” he said.

“I assure you there was no conscious decision on my part to play the part of saviour, but all things considered, it would have been somewhat churlish to allow my host to exsanguinate on the floor if there was something I might do to assist him.”

Remus smiled broadly. “Well I’m very grateful that you weren’t feeling churlish at that moment.”

“In fact I was feeling quite indebted to you at that point, Lupin, you had just saved me from–” Severus turned to face away, his shoulders held in a tight line.

“It’s okay, Severus,” Remus said gently. “Come here.” He held his hand out.

Severus stepped up to the bed. “You want me to hold your hand?” One black eyebrow expressed his scepticism eloquently.

“Humour me,” Remus replied. He waggled his hand. “I’m not well.”

Severus sneered and clasped his hand. His skin was cool and dry. Remus stroked a thumb over the back of the man’s hand. He tugged him closer and Severus stumbled slightly.

“Lupin, you’re pulling me onto the bed!”

“Yes, I am.” He tugged again.

Severus sighed and apparently decided to give up the struggle, shifting to lie atop the covers next to Remus. Remus watched with a smile as Severus stretched out on his back, closing his eyes and moaning with pleasure.

“You’ve been working too hard taking care of me,” Remus stated remorsefully.

“You did no less for me, Lupin.”

“Yes, but I was in better physical condition than you are right now,” he objected. “You’ve barely recovered from your imprisonment, and I imagine walking again is more than a little exhausting after such a long time.”

Severus grunted.

“How did you regain your legs, Severus?”

“I’ve told you already – a Dark spell using your blood.”

“But how did it work?”

“I adapted the _Memoria Perpetua_ spell – or curse, if you prefer. I don’t actually have my legs back, Lupin; it would be more accurate to say that I’m borrowing the memory of them.”

“Bloody hell…” Remus whispered. “So, there’s nothing there? You’re walking on–”

“Air. Thought. Memory. Whatever abstract concept serves you best.”

“Let me see,” Remus demanded, struggling up to a sitting position and pulling at Severus’ robes.

“Unhand me, you beast!” Severus batted at his hand. “Sit still and I’ll show you.”

Shooting Remus an exasperated look, Severus stood and removed his robes. He was wearing a white shirt and black trousers underneath. He undid the fastenings on the trousers and darted another annoyed look at Remus before dropping them to the floor.

“Oh, that’s astounding. Can I touch?” Remus asked without thinking.

Severus’ eyebrow rose.

“Touch what, Lupin?”

Remus felt his face heat at the thought of which particular part of Severus’ anatomy suggested itself to him. “Your legs, of course!” he blurted.

Severus settled back on the bed, propping himself on one elbow. His face bore no particular expression as he said, “You may.”

Remus shifted and reached down to lay his hand in the space where Severus’ legs weren’t, only they were; he could damn well feel them! The skin was warm, and he could feel hair tickling his palm. “Merlin’s petticoats,” he whispered.

“Just like the real thing,” Severus murmured, “but not.”

Remus glanced at his face; the odd non-expression still held and he puzzled over what Severus was thinking. He slid his hand up to the end of Severus’ visible legs; the stumps just above his invisible knees. His hand couldn’t touch the end of them – it passed over the warm, invisible flesh right above the truncated legs. Remus thought he could detect a slight tremor in Severus’ limbs now. Perhaps he was ticklish?

“Amazing,” he concluded, cupping a warm, invisible thigh.

Severus snorted and twitched his head.

“Do you have sensation – can you feel my hand?”

Severus nodded wordlessly. Remus could see Severus’ lips thinning, though whether it was from repressing his reaction to a ticklish touch or from discomfort at being touched at all, he couldn’t tell.

“I trust you have inspected to your satisfaction?” Severus’ voice sounded a little strangled.

Remus chuckled. “I thank you for indulging me. It truly is a feat, no pun intended.”

Severus gave him a pained look and rose to pull on his trousers once more.

“Oh, bloody–” Remus began, almost smacking his forehead before he remembered that he had a rather large bandage over his right eye, “I’ve a pair of your boots in the bottom of the cupboard!”

“Whatever for?” Severus finished zipping up his trousers and pinned him with a quizzical look.

“No particular reason – I just grabbed them when we were at your house. You’ve been walking around barefoot, haven’t you? I know my shoes are too small for you…”

“And mine would be too big for you, so why did you bring them back here?” Severus asked again as he walked over to the wardrobe and peered inside.

“It doesn’t matter why! And, as it turns out, you have a use for them now,” Remus replied impatiently. “Borrow some of my socks,” he added.

He laid his head back against the pillows; he’d just felt the strangest dizziness. Not unusual, he supposed – perhaps the loss of his stereoscopic vision playing havoc with his senses and some vertigo was the result.

“I don’t trust this level of foresight in you, Lupin,” Severus muttered peevishly.

Remus smiled and said nothing. He wasn’t going to explain his feelings when he’d first seen the boots in Severus’ room at Spinner’s End. Not a chance. It was the oddest thing, watching Severus slide invisible feet into the worn boots. Severus strode over to pick up Remus’ almost empty bowl.

“Are you sure you won’t finish this last bit?”

The thought of trying to straighten from his supine position enough to eat the rest of the soup without dribbling didn’t appeal to him at all.

“No, really, Severus; it was very nice but,” he yawned and felt his eyelids grow heavier by the second. What had he been about to say?

“Are you alright?” Severus moved over to stare into his face. “How do you feel, Lupin?”

“Mm… sleepy,” he slurred. The fatigue had hit him out of the blue. He wasn’t just tired – he felt a compulsive need to sleep. Now.

“Can’t stay… awake…”

“Don’t worry. Everything is as it should be. You will be much better when you wake up, Lupin.”

Remus was not reassured, however; there was something off about the way Severus spoke to him.

 _Am I dreaming again?_ Remus wondered muzzily.

He met Severus’ intense gaze through his half-shut eye just before dropping into a deep sleep.


	14. Body of Work

Remus dreamt of blood and cracking bones, howling and terror. He was half aware of thrashing in the bed, unable to rouse himself from sleep, but there was a cool, soothing touch on his forehead and it tilted him back into quiet slumber.

When he awoke Remus was dizzy and confused and not sure what had roused him until he heard Severus’ voice raised loudly in argument.

“I’m telling you one more time, you imbeciles; your warrant cannot be executed on Lupin!”

Remus’ stomach lurched. He’d been half expecting someone from Magical Law Enforcement to show up and arrest him for attacking that Auror, and apparently someone had. The best Remus could hope for now was a life sentence in Azkaban. The worst was a death sentence. He hoped the Wizengamot would take his efforts during the war against Voldemort into consideration, but he couldn’t count on it.

He broke into a cold sweat, his hearting bumping frantically in his chest. The sheets had stuck to his skin while he slept – he lifted his hand to try and untangle them.

Severus’ voice rose again, closer this time, and Remus heard brisk footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Don’t be bloody fools!”

Remus had to get him to calm down; Severus wasn’t safe from prosecution himself should word get out that he’d used a Dark spell the night of the attack. After the treatment he’d already received at the hands of the corrupt Aurors, Remus did not want him in Magical Law Enforcement’s custody again.

Two Aurors appeared in the doorway, moving inside the bedroom with a curt greeting. Severus followed them in. Remus did not recognise either of them from the attack.

“Remus John Lupin,” said the darker of the two Aurors, “I’m here to place you under house arrest until such time as you may be taken into custody to face trial for the werewolf attack on Jeffrey Lambon, on the night of 22 November.”

Remus felt an icy chill down his spine. _This is it, old boy – your luck has finally run out._

“If you’d damn well listen to me, you bloody great–”

“Severus, please! Don’t make it any–”

“Shut up, Lupin!” Severus whirled and snarled at him.

Remus was shocked into silence.

“You, and your superiors, are making a mistake!” Severus stabbed his finger at the Aurors standing red-faced and uncomfortable; they were obviously antagonised by Severus’ histrionics, but wary of his reputation as a Dark Wizard.

 _Not such easy prey now that he’s back on his feet, eh?_ Remus felt some small satisfaction that Severus was once more capable of intimidating people – he just wished Severus hadn’t chosen to exhibit the talent right now.

Through the rapid pounding of his heart, Remus was dimly aware that the Floo had been activated in the sitting room.

“Remus Lupin is no longer a werewolf; you cannot execute that warrant on a non-werewolf!”

There was a period of complete silence, as if the two Aurors were no longer sure of their mission.

“Professor?”

All four of them turned at the sound of Harry’s voice in the bedroom doorway.

“Ah, Potter – so glad you could make it. Finally,” Severus said, the heavy sarcasm just barely masking his relief.

“Harry?” Remus said, not quite in question, more in confusion. However, nothing further came to mind and he just stared at Severus again.

“Did you give it to him?” Harry asked Severus.

“Of course I did, and just in bloody time. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum here are trying to place him under house arrest.”

Remus found that there were some words he could force past his lips after all. “Harry, you knew the Aurors would be here?”

But the boy ignored his query and turned to face the two bemused Aurors.

“There has been formal paperwork lodged with the Minister’s chief secretary on this particular procedure. Your boss will find everything is in order, I’ve just finished speaking to him myself.”

“Beg your pardon, Mr Potter, but until we get official–”

The Auror halted as a brown owl flapped through the window and landed on the bed knob. The letter the bird held in its beak twitched and leapt into the air and Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice erupted from it.

“Aurors Cook and Brooke are to report to Headquarters at once. Your current orders have been cancelled by order of the Ministry of Magic.”

The two Aurors looked in bafflement at each other. Kingley’s voice added in a more casual tone, “Sorry about the misunderstanding, Remus. We will need to order some tests in due course, but if Snape’s claim can be verified then it looks like you’re cured.”

Harry gestured for the Aurors to precede him out of the room and they left without protest. Severus glared after them with his arms folded across his chest. Understanding was slow to trickle through, but by the time Harry had escorted the Aurors out to the front door Remus was ready to talk, and then some.

“How the hell do you think you can get away with this, Severus?” he demanded hotly. “You can’t possibly convince them you’ve cured me! And now you’ve implicated Harry as well. We’ll all be brought up on charges of fraud, for Merlin’s sake!” he protested. Remus pushed the bedclothes off with a shaking hand and swung his feet to the floor. Dizziness had him squinting and trying not to throw up.

“Lupin, careful! It’s only been twenty-four hours,” Severus said, moving quickly to put a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s been only twenty-four hours? It’s been longer than that since the attack, or have you been sleeping walking all this time?”

“No, you’ve been sleeping for that long, Remus,” Harry said as he walked back into the room.

“What?” Remus peered up at both of them, wondering if they had decided to share a weird, esoteric delusion. Perhaps a legellimentic-psychotic break of some kind?

“You’ve been asleep for twenty-four hours, Lupin,” Severus stated slowly.

It was the calm tone he used that finally convinced Remus that he was telling the truth.

“What have you done?” Remus whispered, slumping sideways onto his pillows. He fought down the urge to vomit, mind going blank for the few seconds he took to breathe deeply and calm himself.

“I’ve finally been able to brew a cure for the lycanthropy curse. It’s been a side project of mine for some years, actually. I finished the theory about four years ago. I lacked the final ingredient to test the potion, however, and until two days ago it had languished forgotten in my notebooks.”

Remus groaned with a flash of insight. “My paw!”

Severus nodded stiffly and looked away from his anguish.

“You fed me a piece of my own body,” Remus rasped out, thinking of the way he’d enjoyed the taste of the soup Severus had made for him. His mind whirled, as did his vision, and he could hold it back no longer – his stomach was going to purge no matter what he had to say about it. He scrabbled to make it to the edge of the bed, aiming to throw up on the floor rather than the sheets. Severus must have guessed what he was about – there was a hastily conjured basin waiting on the floor for him and he tried to aim as the heaving began.

He heaved, and heaved. He blinked tears out of his eye, seeing the bandage encasing his wrist – where his hand had been. That set off more helpless retching.

In the end he collapsed, too weak to support his own weight any longer. He laid down on his side, guts churning and his frame shaking with reaction. His stomach strained spasmodically, still trying to eject its contents, but there was nothing left except the acid in his mouth.

He stared into space, unblinking, aware of Severus and Harry cleaning up the mess he’d made. Harry had a cloth and was wiping Remus’ face, studying him with concern. Remus couldn’t conjure any sort of feeling about it; it was enough to just breathe freely and allow his mind to drift. Severus waved his wand and Remus knew that his mouth had been cleaned – his throat no longer burned. He found himself gently tipped onto his back. Harry straightened the bedclothes around him. Severus cast a lumos spell and gazed into his eyes for a few seconds.

“Shock, I believe,” Severus said quietly.

“Should I call Poppy?” Harry asked.

The words didn’t mean anything to Remus. He blinked once, not really seeing the ceiling above him.

“I don’t think it will be necessary. I will stay here and monitor him, however. If he doesn’t improve soon I will contact Madam Pomfrey.”

“Right then. I don’t know about you, Professor, but I could use a cup of tea after all that.”

Remus heard Severus grunt softly and Harry’s footsteps as he left the room. He could see a flash of movement from the corner of his eye when Harry went through the door.

Severus shifted and then filled Remus’ vision as he loomed over him.

“I’m sorry,” Severus whispered. “I’m sorry, Remus,” he repeated. Something trickled through to Remus’ senses as fingers combed the hair off his forehead.

“Severus,” Remus rasped through dry lips. “I–”

“How is he?” Harry asked, coming back through the doorway.

Severus drew back as if Remus had suddenly become too hot to touch. His voice sounded stilted as he replied, “Better, I think. He’s responsive now.”

“Oh, that’s great.” The relief in Harry’s voice was unmistakable. The boy moved closer, into the space Severus had just vacated. “Would you like to try some tea, Remus?”

Things were showing up with startling detail; the black lashes around Harry’s eyes, the smudges on his glasses, the bruise-like shadows under his eyes…

“Harry,” Remus breathed. Harry must have been in on it with Severus – he’d sent notification to the Ministry. He hadn’t said a word to Remus. It would take time to sort things out with him “Please go home now.”

He watched in detached fascination as Harry’s face fell, first disbelief, then acceptance.

“Of course, Remus,” he acceded. “Just… be well.”

Remus suffered the boy’s hand on his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze, and then he was gone.

Severus cleared his throat and Remus turned his head slowly to regard him. He looked guilty. It was a new look on him.

“Would you like me to leave as well?” Severus asked quietly.

He shook his head slightly. “No, Severus.”

Severus frowned at him. “Why not? I’m responsible for this… this situation. Much as I prefer Potter out of the way, he’s not the real culprit.” He huffed and began to pace the floor, whirling as he almost collided with the doorframe.

“I wanted to cure you before they arrested you. You bit that Auror to protect me – I’m responsible for their attack on your home; if I hadn’t been here none of it would have happened. I hope you understand that I did this for your safety, and I hope that with time you will forgive me for the way I deceived you,” Severus whispered harshly. “I couldn’t see you executed for protecting me.”

“Come closer, Severus,” he said, holding out his hand.

Severus stepped up to the edge of the bed, glancing down at his hand then back up to his face. “I don’t understand you,” Severus stated bluntly, then took his hand and held it.

“You didn’t stop to weigh up the consequences, and that isn’t like you at all. You’ve always been the strategist but in this case you’ve been reacting with your feelings,” Remus said, a little astounded at his own clarity of thought. “I will talk things over with Harry later, I don’t really understand why he agreed to all of this.” He was pained by that realisation. But it was a distant sensation, as if he was feeling it through an insulating cloud of cotton wool.

“The boy simply followed my lead,” Severus responded, dropping his eyes to the bed covers.

“Harry is a freelance Death Eater Interrogator – he doesn’t _follow_ anyone anymore. He may respect you, Severus, but you couldn’t have lead him into anything he didn’t want to do.”

“Lupin–”

“Harry may be a mystery to me, but you I understand. _You_ did it because you love me,” Remus continued, a smile fighting to appear on his face, but it still hurt too much.

Severus slowly released his hand and turned to the side to gaze at the floor. “I–” he began, and said nothing more.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to sleep now,” Remus said, closing his eyes with a sigh. Anything else that needed saying would have to wait.


	15. The Beginning

It had been over a week since the MLE’s aborted attempt to place Remus under house arrest and he’d been sequestered in St. Mungo’s for the past seven days. Remus threw his socks into his battered suitcase and closed it. He gave a heartfelt sigh and sat on the edge of the bed, scrubbing his left eye with the heel of his hand. His right eye had not healed and he’d been assessed for a magical replacement. He’d also been offered a prosthetic hand. Some stubborn streak had made him refuse, though no logical reason had helpfully presented itself. Remus’d had a lot of illogical thoughts during the past week.

Knowing how Severus felt about him had not made life miraculously simple and straightforward for Remus. His life was still one very short step below a Tri Wizard Tournament for sheer perverse complication and hard work – not to mention the utterly insane number of regulations that had to be observed. Remus had spent a week at the beck and call of any number of Dark Creature experts, Magical Medicine experts, Magical Law experts, Experimental Potions Research specialists (that last lot had made him smile, as Severus was included at the insistence of the researchers involved in the evaluating process) – he felt like so much meat on a slab at this point, poked, sliced and ready to snap and bite at the next stupidly obvious question. The trouble was, he realised with moody amusement, now his bite was no worse than the next man’s.

Make no mistake about it – this potion discovery was Dark by its very nature. You couldn’t consume your own flesh without crossing the fine line between beneficence and maleficence. Severus had only been saved from arrest on the basis that he had not in fact separated Remus’ hand from his wrist, but had utilised the body part of a Dark creature to create the potion only after someone _else_ had removed it from the creature in question.

It all sounded very convenient, but a surprising number of people appeared to be willing to accept the whole explanation without looking too closely, and without stopping to wonder how Severus had found himself so perfectly mobile all of a sudden. The man’s ability to improvise had been seriously underestimated by everyone who had ever known him, with the possible exception of Albus Dumbledore.

Needless to say, there had been no further talk of feelings with Severus – no awkward pauses and tongue-tied moments for either of them over the past week. Both of them had been too busy, and the venue Remus had been in was not exactly conducive to the sharing of confidences.

During the testing process, Remus had been in a quarantined environment intended to provide an untainted field for ascertaining his curse status. He’d been put through so many physical and magical evaluations he’d lost count – and the experts had said that they had gone easy on him because of his recent injuries!

But finally the process was complete. There would be an official hearing tomorrow, but Remus knew from his own observations, and a bit of eavesdropping, that the decision would be taken to revoke his designation as a werewolf and instate him as a fully human member of Wizarding society. It both thrilled and revolted him. He had struggled to maintain his humanity for so long – and he knew he’d not been the only one – and now, with the slash of a quill, he was being granted his heart’s desire; to be free of the curse of lycanthropy. Not because he’d earned it, not because he deserved it, but because he’d been fed a piece of his own body by someone he’d trusted implicitly.

Would he have eaten it if he’d known? He’d spent six nights sleeping fitfully, dreaming dark visions, always waking with a thudding heart to ask himself that question. He still hadn’t answered it.

Remus thought the ease with which he’d forgiven Severus should have disturbed him. Truthfully, he couldn’t explain it satisfactorily to himself. Perhaps it was because Severus so badly needed forgiveness, and he had received so little of it in his life. Remus certainly wasn’t motivated by self-interest to forgive him; his own process of ‘humanisation’ had left him ambivalent and unexpectedly humiliated. It was oddly anti-climactic to achieve your heart’s desire. Or perhaps at some point his heart’s desire had changed?

Now he could do so many things that others had taken for granted their entire lives. He could even teach, without the burden of secrets this time. He should be happy.

He looked up at a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Tonks entered the stark white room. He hadn’t had visitors beyond the appointed experts all week and her colourful presence was a welcome change.

“Tonks! It’s good to see you,” he greeted the young Auror, drawn out of his despondent state of mind instantly.

“Remus!”

The young witch ran forward and threw her arms around him. “I can’t believe you’re actually cured! It’s wonderful, sweetheart!”

He squeezed her back, not really knowing how to respond. Of course it was wonderful – what was he on about, thinking morbid thoughts? He had a flash of his last Change, before the attack; his paws up on Severus’ chair, licking a long swipe across the man’s face and curling his tongue around the flavour as he fell asleep in front of the fire. He shuddered and let his arms fall from Tonks.

She stepped back slightly and peered up into his face. “That patch makes you look like a pirate, ‘s very sexy. So, tell me, how does it feel to be one of us?”

“Actually, I don’t really know. I’d always considered myself one of ‘us’ – with the monthly exception, I spent all my time trying to live as if I was,” he replied. He shrugged, aware that he was being less than cheerful again.

For every comment about his human status he felt the denigration of his former cursed state. The eradication of his werewolf curse seemed to have given people permission to express their prejudice in his presence. 

“Well, yeah, Remus – of course you’ve always been human to me! Bloody hell, love – what’s wrong?” Tonks asked in exasperation. She tweaked his eye patch. “It wasn’t a serious question, really,” she added. “I wouldn’t have slept with you for half a year if I thought that I was doing it with a, a, well… a not-human person!”

“Tonks, you mad bint,” he chuckled.

“Hey!” She gave him a token slap on the shoulder. “When are you breaking out of here anyway?”

“Very soon,” he replied. “I’m waiting for some paperwork that I have to take to the hearing tomorrow.”

“There’s been another hearing in your absence, Remus,” Tonks said in a more subdued tone.

“Oh? Oh! The Aurors?” He’d seen the occasional newspaper headline regarding the incident, but no particular details – only catching glimpses of discarded copies of the Prophet in the corridors and waiting rooms as he was being hustled from one specialist to another.

“Yes. So far eight have been charged. Harry’s helping out and he says there will be more.”

“Harry?” Remus’ stomach dropped with alarming speed.

“Yeah, he’s doing some of the interrogation work.”

“I’ll just bet he is,” Remus murmured. He’d gained some insight into Harry’s behaviour in recent days and was determined to persuade him to leave off working for the MLE at the earliest opportunity. He was another who needed Remus’ forgiveness, and Remus knew he would give it in time. First they needed a long talk about infatuation and obsession, and the effect they had on one’s personal judgement.

“Now, I’m not telling you this, right?” Tonks stated quietly.

Remus nodded, alert.

“Snape was tortured while he was being held for investigation. The other arrests are related to that, and it looks like most of the Aurors involved were from the team that hexed him.”

He nodded, unsurprised.

“You knew?”

“I had a strong suspicion,” Remus agreed.

“Why didn’t you mention it? Come to that, why didn’t Snape mention it?” Tonks blurted.

“Who would have believed him? Or me?”

He watched her as she absorbed the truth of it. She frowned and nodded.

“There’s something else,” she began, her eyes finding the floor.

“Go on,” he murmured, already knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“When they attacked… at your flat – they knew your routine, or what they thought would be your routine that night, because I had told one of them.”

Remus nodded again, a little relieved. He’d figured that out for himself.

“Damn it, Remus!”

He smiled grimly as she stamped her foot.

“I recognised one of them. I don’t know, from the pub or something?” he explained.

“Julian. We went out with him after work once, before we split,” she explained. “I went out with him a few times afterwards. I probably said a lot of things I shouldn’t have.”

“He was one of the Aurors that hexed Snape?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

“How were you to know, Tonks?” He put his arms around her, hating the miserable expression on her face. “It’s okay.”

Her arms came up to clasp him around the waist. He kissed the top of her head.

There was another knock at the door – Tonks had left it partially open – and Severus walked in.

“Severus! Have you been released from your duties?” Remus quickly stepped back from Tonk’s embrace. His heart bumped erratically as he drank in the sight of the man; lank black hair, pallid face, monstrous nose… He darted a quick look back at Tonks standing next to him – yes; clunky boots and body-piercings, but undeniably female and attractive – and wondered when the spell had been cast.

“Lupin,” Severus nodded in greeting. He turned to Tonks. “Auror Tonks,” he acknowledged her presence with extreme formality.

“Good morning, Professor Snape,” she responded with equally strict formality.

Remus’ eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline.

Severus looked back at him. “I see you have someone to accompany you back home. As my assistance is not required, I will bid you good day and see you tomorrow at the hearing.”

Remus was still scrambling to decipher Severus’ unspoken message as he swirled to leave the room.

“Oh, Sn… Professor Snape, I’m afraid you are mistaken. I will not be accompanying Remus home today – I was merely informing him of the general state of the ongoing investigation taking place concerning the attack that was carried out on the two of you.”

Remus swung his head to goggle at Tonks. She slipped him a quick look and smirked almost invisibly. He turned back to Severus.

“Um, yes. That’s right, Severus. I have made no plans with anyone. For going home,” he managed to babble, knowing that he now sounded like an imbecile and a desperate tart into the bargain.

He heard a suppressed snort from Tonks and manfully ignored her as he stared hard at Severus, willing the man to stay, to come home with him, to come with him, for Merlin’s tits!

The Ministry’s functionary dealing with his case interrupted the standoff. The witch bustled in with a distracted air after a perfunctory knock on the open door.

“Right, Mister Lupin, here are your documents,” she said handing him a folder stuffed with parchment.

“Er, thanks,” he muttered, gripping the folder tightly to prevent the parchments spilling out.

“Now, you’re free to leave at last!” the witch enthused with professional jocularity. “But don’t forget that the hearing will start at 11am sharp tomorrow and you must present these to the clerk before they begin.”

“Right, thanks,” he nodded to the witch. A large droplet of sweat had started to trickle down his back. _Please go away!_ he shouted in his mind.

“Well,” she huffed with a self-satisfied air, “I wish you the very best of luck for tomorrow, Mister Lupin – but I’m sure everything will be in order and you will be able to take up the full privileges available to the human members of our Wonderful Wizarding World!”

He was going to hit her.

“Thanks,” Remus nodded curtly.

Something of his ambivalence must have filtered through her awareness. Her smooth forehead crinkled briefly.

“Well then, goodbye, Mister Lupin,” she finally said, giving him brief wave as she trundled to the door.

“Goodbye,” he muttered through his teeth.

“I’ll say goodbye too, Remus,” Tonks said after an eye roll at the Ministry witch. “I’ll pop my head in at the hearing if I get time, yeah?”

Remus unclenched his jaw with a squeak. “Right, Tonks. Thanks,” he replied with a tight smile.

She snuck a quick kiss on his cheek – he was sure she did it because she knew it would annoy him – and swung away, giving Severus a saucy grin by way of farewell as she stalked past him at the doorway.

“Severus,” he exhaled on the man’s name, “would you take me home now? Please?”

~~~^~~~

Remus dropped his suitcase on the floor and flopped on the sofa with a groan.

“Tea?”

“Oh, yes please, Severus. That cack they serve at St Mungo’s could be brewed using week-old socks.”

“Indeed.”

Remus heard the man walk through to the kitchen followed by the subdued clatter of kettle filling and cup gathering. Remus gazed at the long-dead flowers left sitting on the mantle, the threadbare rug on the floor, the worn patches on the arms of his chair – he patted the sagging seat of the sofa underneath him. He smiled; there was nothing better than coming home.

Remus had his eye closed and his head resting on the back of the sofa when Severus entered with the tea tray. They busied themselves with pouring tea and adding milk, Remus just a little pleased with his progress at left-handedness. He took a deep breath to ask the really important question that would possibly lead to even more important questions.

“Will you be staying on here for a while?”

Severus took his time answering, blowing over the top of his teacup before taking a small sip.

“I’m not sure.”

An answer that wasn’t an answer. Remus struggled to work out what Severus needed him to say.

“Will you ever go back to live at your house in Spinner’s End?” he asked. He could do this obliquely and wait for some clue to Severus’ thinking.

Severus shook his head decisively. “No. I shall sell it as soon as I am able. Perhaps take all the spells off it and sell it back to the Muggles.”

“Goodness. Will the structure stand without magic?” Remus was intrigued.

“Yes, it should. The building is quite sound – it stood without magic for a long time before my parents moved in,” Severus replied.

Remus took a mouthful of his tea before asking another question. “Do you have anywhere in mind to live after you’ve sold the property?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. It has been a busy week and I have been somewhat preoccupied,” Severus replied.

Remus smiled briefly. Trying to get a straight answer from Severus was proving difficult – he would have to give him something in order to get something.

“I’ve enjoyed your company while you’ve been staying here,” Remus began, “I’d be happy to have you stay on, if you’d like to.”

“Would you like me to?”

“Yes, I’ve just said.”

“You said you’d be happy to have me here if that’s what I wanted. Not quite the same statement, Lupin.”

Remus frowned. This was a verbal labyrinth.

“Yes. I would like you to stay, Severus.”

“Why?”

“I like the company!”

“Why me? Why not someone else? Someone more socially acceptable. Someone female.”

“What?” _Have I missed something?_

He was bewildered by Severus’ clipped tone – it was almost hostile, as if he was about to attack Remus for being attracted to him.

Severus held his puzzled gaze, his eyes gave nothing away – it was his peculiar non-expression again. Impossible to read, and no doubt deliberately so. Remus had to be transparent, no matter how hard it was to open up and make himself vulnerable again.

“Severus, I want you to stay. I don’t want anyone else to stay. I don’t want someone more socially acceptable and I don’t want a woman. I want you.”

Severus blinked slowly at him. “It is a very small flat,” he observed.

“Yes. It is,” Remus agreed, barely breathing.

“And there is only one bedroom.”

“That’s true,” Remus agreed again.

“And only one bed.”

“Also true. Although, perhaps we could divide the bed again,” Remus suggested.

Severus shook his head slightly. “I think not.”

Remus held his breath.

“I would prefer the stain remain hidden underneath it.”

Remus let his breath out quietly. Blood thrummed in his ears. He stared at Severus’ dark, perfectly reflective eyes.

“This will take me some time, Lupin.”

Remus nodded, unable to stop the movement for sheer giddy relief. “That’s perfectly alright, Severus,” he said in a rush.

“I’ve… suffered some… damage,” Severus began, sounding uncertain for the first time since his arrival two weeks ago.

“I’m aware of what you’ve been through, Severus. We can work to your timetable – it will take as long as it takes,” he hastened to assure him. Remus shrugged helplessly. How else could he express his willingness to do this? “I think… I think that all I need to get on, to be happy, is you.”

He considered how to tell Severus how he felt – it was important to say now before they both crept back behind their barriers again.

“Things have been difficult. It’s been hard to know exactly how to think of myself,” Remus said slowly. “But when I’m with you I feel right.” His lips curled into a crooked smile as he despaired over his words, wishing for more eloquence and style – his intellect had obviously stayed on at St Mungo’s.

“You are Remus Lupin. That’s all you have to be – you don’t need to fulfill anyone else’s expectations,” Severus responded with a frown.

“Yes, but I’ve had a lifetime to get used to seeing myself as a werewolf. My identity was tied up in that and now that I no longer am one… I don’t know who I am anymore – or _what_ I am,” he explained.

“I see.”

Remus’ stomach rolled and he stared at the floor. Did Severus think he was blaming him for his sense of displacement? Perhaps he felt responsible for Remus feeling out-of-step in Wizarding society. Remus realised that there was nothing he could do about that right now.

“I can make it simple for you,” Severus said quietly.

Remus raised his head and cocked an eyebrow in question. He watched Severus as he rose from the armchair and approached the sofa where Remus sat holding his teacup. Then Remus was holding Severus’ hand with no memory of putting down his cup.

“Just be Remus. Be my Remus.”

He blinked wetly up at Severus.

“I can do that,” he rasped out.

 

the~•~end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an epilogue in the making.


End file.
